Teenage Icon
by Peaches of History
Summary: Washed up, burned out, headed into the racing season. Chick Hicks is running on steam, but he won't admit it. Washed up, burned out, headed to Radiator Springs for a little TLC. She's running on steam, but she won't admit it either. After a chance encounter, can the two cars, completely different but one in the same, re-ignite the flames beneath both of their hoods? Chick/OC
1. Too Close

I own nothing except for any OC's that may appear (unless I specify). Anyway, story idea that developed from another idea I had. I just had to include Chick, so yeah. Here's this thing. First chapter was originally supposed to be different, but I figured I might as well start it out like THIIIS. I hope you enjoy! Leave a review~ They're all appreciated!

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If there was anything that brought him pleasure in the world, it was the asphalt beneath his tires. He pulled onto the pavement, paying the world around him no mind. His bravado didn't matter now; all that mattered was getting away from that, that... He had no words for _McQueen_. The car that seemingly ripped the rug out from under his tires, leaving him blinded and behind.

His grill twitched upwards slightly in a snarl as he sped around the track, taking his frustrations out on the asphalt, frustrations that spilled over after a good four years. After The King's last race, after he had won the Piston Cup, he was sure he would have hit his desired high point in life. But the high hadn't even lasted a minute; McQueen had trumped him again, and all Chick ended up with was a meaningless Piston Cup.

He thought that he would be able to gain all that lost ground back, and beat McQueen in the next season. Fruitlessly, he scouted out the way Lightning trained, stayed in that hillbilly town which was now _thriving _- but what did he get out of it? Nothing. When the racing season ended with a loss on his part, he fled again, thinking ahead to the next season.

They talked behind his back. They always had, and he knew it. He felt the cold attitude other cars held towards them, which most masked because he was the only racer that would entertain the likes of them. They thought that he couldn't hear them, hear their words and feel the glances they cast at him. His crew chief, his pit crew, former fans, his _sponsor_.

Chick gritted his teeth, the pavement a blur beneath him as he took the curves almost recklessly. He hadn't spent all his life training to be a failure, a disgrace, just as he was expected to be. He had always thought a little better of himself, but now, he just wasn't sure _what _to think. He had lost sight of a lot of things over the years, and now that he was older, he couldn't help but listen to their nasty, snide remarks.

And they took their toll, even if he didn't show it.

He was good for just one thing, it seemed: playing the villain. He played the part well, too. He was "over-bearing, loud, brash" and all sorts of things like that, which he couldn't deny. He just hated having other cars pointing it out for him. He didn't _need _to know that he was over-bearing, rude, and obnoxious. Words he usually deflected with an outburst, words that he was having a hard time ignoring now. They tore him up, drove him crazy.

Chick's hood was a mess, running in every direction as he stuck to the track, the only constant thing he'd had in years. Things changed so often, but all at the same time they stayed just that very same way. But he would _never _admit, not ever, that he was burning out. He was disgusted that the thought had even entered his mind.

"Chick," a gruff voice called. The veteran racer shot a glance in the car's direction, ready to blow whoever it was off. _They can kiss my shiny metal - _but his train of thought was broken off as he screeched to a halt, seeing that it was his sponsor, some car he had never bothered to learn the model of. He drove off of the track and down towards pit row, where his sponsor was parked, eyes set low and colored coal black.

"Yeah? What is it?" He tried to keep it short but even-sounding, although he heard his voice snap like a whip. Chick reigned himself in, something that was also becoming harder and harder to do.

His sponsor, or Gordon Malone, angled himself towards the track, gesturing with his tire for Chick to turn around and look, too. Chick's dark brown eyes scanned the track, they narrowed, but he didn't see what point Malone was trying to get across to him. After a moment or two, Malone cast his eyes down on Chick. "You see that track, don't you?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"What is that track to you?"

Chick was floored for a second. "What?"

"What is that track to you?" Malone simply repeated the question, tilting slightly towards Chick, as if trying to prove that the green stock car was insignificant in his company.

_How do I answer that? What kind of question _is _that? _"I don't know, really. I mean. Come on, Malone. What do you want me to say?" Chick had the answer to the question, but it was tied too deeply to him, too full of that wretched thing called emotion. He could deal with being pushed around, treated like he was lower than the dirt he drove on, but he wouldn't let his feelings show. Nobody, _nobody _would exploit him like that.

"I want the truth from you, Chick. What exactly is that track to you? What does it mean?" His eyes sparked, as if he knew exactly why Chick had danced around the question.

Chick ground his teeth, glancing out at the track. It was his everything, his life. The only thing he had left, really. Everything else had disintegrated right in front of him. Malone waited patiently for an answer, knowing that, sooner or later, he would get one. He had too much power over _his _racer anyway. He already knew the answer; he just wanted to squeeze out that emotion, to give him something more to use against the race car.

"Thinking hard about this one, are you?" Malone prompted.

"Hm," Chick grunted, eyes still on the track. _I shouldn't have to answer a stupid question like this. This is a waste of my time. He already knows the answer, anyway. _That realization irked him, yet he was powerless. "The track is important. You know, it's where I do all my training, get out the McQueen-hatred." He turned his eyes to meet Malone's, which were fiery. The answer just wasn't what he was looking for. _He's going to play me like a record. _It took all of his will-power not to start swinging.

Malone dropped his eyes, masking a slight smirk. He took on a grave tone of voice, but there were thick layers of condescension laced throughout his voice. "Listen, Chick. If you want the continued support of Hostile Takeover Bank, I need to be sure of where your priorities are. I need you to tell me why we should continue to sponsor you, why the track is so important. You don't have any substance."

Chick inhaled slowly, wishing that looks could kill. His sponsor was going to hit all the soft areas to get what he wanted, wasn't he? Even if that meant threatening his racing career, toying with him this way - Malone would do it, just to get the reaction. And Chick would have to cough it up if he wanted to keep a grip on the only solid thing for him right now.

"The track... Is everything. I practically live on it, if you'd really like to know..."

"And? Why is that?" He sounded so attentive, so curious, but it was all just for show.

"It's all I've got. Everything I've ever worked for. The track is where it's all happened." _Oil, sweat, and tears. _"It's my fixation." How he tried to keep the feeling out of his voice. If he could keep it void of emotion, he could protect himself.

Malone's grill twisted upward into a smile. "I see. Very well, then. You should prepare yourself for the oncoming racing season, which I see you've been doing. I recommend that you scout out the competition." And by competition, he meant McQueen. Which meant another go-around in Radiator Springs. Just the thought _made _Chick's day.


	2. Invitations

Woo! So, thanks to MereMcQueen314 for the review & favorite! I have a few of the chapters written out already, but decided not to post them all at one time (and if I need to make any revisions, I can still do that). Anyway, here it is, the second chapter. Enjoy and please leave a comment! Critique, thoughts, any review is welcome and appreciated!

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_"She just ain't got what you got, King," the golden Cadillac said, glancing at his long time friend. "She's good, but her heart ain't there." 'The King' Strip Weathers turned his rust-colored eyes to watch the powder blue car speed around the track, only for her to spin out in the grass. Dirt flew, tire marks deepened, and he simply sighed, his tank sinking at the sight of her struggle. _

_The car peeled off the grass, a frown across her grill as she sped back onto the track, taking the turns recklessly as she quickly gained speed. Strip looked back to Tex with a shake of his hood. "I think her heart's in it, Tex. That ain't the issue here. I think she just ain't usin' her hood," he remarked. He watched her spin out again, coming dangerously close to a collision with the wall. "I think that's enough for today." _

_Tex watched as Strip pulled away, driving down to the track before the girl could do herself real harm. The golden Cadillac simply sighed, reversed, and drove out of the lot as a bleeding sun set over the track. _

_She turned her eyes up, but quickly lowered them when she saw Strip approaching her. Her tires turned in the dirt, but she went nowhere; she simply parked her bumper where it was and waited to see what he would say. 'I'm tryin' so hard, please...' she thought to herself. Her grill tilted down as she tried to cool her heated engine down. She couldn't help the words that escaped, out of nervousness. "I'm tryin'. I just can't get the feel is all, really." _

_Strip waved a tire. "It's fine, darlin'. Get yourself unstuck and we'll go home." His eyes were calm and kind, his accent thick like syrup. It calmed her nerves a little, even though she worried that she had disappointed him. His voice gave nothing away, except maybe exhaustion, while hers gave everything away. _

_"Are you sure? I need to practice and all, so we can stay out a little longer..." _

_"Your mama's worried sick by now, and besides, supper's probably ready anyway. C'mon, hun." Strip brushed some dirt from her hood, gently, in only a way that a father could. _

_"If you're sure," she answered, digging herself out from the dirt. The King led her off the track, drove off the lot, calling goodbyes to his crew as he and his child headed for home. It was a short drive from the track, which reassured the girl in some way. She was glad that the day was coming to a close; another day of training was done. Her failures, she could see them plain as day. She could see the hills she couldn't quite climb sprawled before her. _

_She was just a girl, in an entirely male world. It would have been okay if she had that natural knack that her father had for racing, but she lacked it. She wasn't built like he was. Her spirit was not tame as his was outside the races; his flourished on the track while her flame simply seemed to flicker and die on the track. She saw the hopes and dreams behind Strip's eyes, though, and he was the reason she kept on. _

_Today was tough, though. Tex was like an uncle to her, yet when it came to racing she wanted to avoid him. He was the silent judge, parked beside her father. The pressure weighed down on her sometimes. All the time. And today, it was like two tons of cold metal resting on her engine. Every turn she took seemed to constrict her, she couldn't focus, could hardly breathe. Her engine burned, her tank churned. She was exhausted. _

_She followed her father into the house, making sure to close the garage door behind her. The kitchen, however quaint it was, smelled of supper. All she wanted was a cool ration of oil, though. That would have been enough for her. _

_"How was it today?" Lynda looked up with her youthful, pretty blue eyes. Her grill curled up into a smile, which made Strip smile in return as he drove over to her. The girl simply ducked over to park beside the table. _

_"It was jus' fine," Strip answered casually, nuzzling his wife gently. _

_"Georgia?" _

_"Jus' fine. Peachy," Georgia replied, watching her parents. She admired them, how they worked things out, the way they talked to each other in low tones, smiled fondly. She hoped for the same thing one day, a thought that brought a smile to her grill. Lynda smiled in return, satisfied that her daughter was satisfied. Her pretty blue eyes sparkled as she drove over to the counter to bring supper to the table, while Strip gestured for Georgia to follow him. _

_"C'mon, darlin'. I need to talk to ya," he said gently. Georgia pulled her tires from their spot, following her father into the next room. The two parked next to one another, she angled slightly towards him, her eyes drifting to the pictures that adorned the walls. He gave her a moment to gather her attention before he spoke. "How did you feel about the track today?" _

_Georgia paused. How did she feel about the track? How did she feel about the training she did? "The track was all right. Couldn't get a grip on it, though." _

_Strip nodded his hood. "What about the training?" He searched his daughter's expression for anything she may have been trying to mask. _

_She shrugged her tires loosely. "It was jus' fine." She turned her eyes to the curtains, which allowed the bleeding rays of orange to spill through. _

_"Mhmm." He watched her stir, her rusty eyes glassy as she gazed down at the orange rays, as if she was searching for something within them. Something better to say than 'jus' fine'. "What's on your mind? Tex seemed to think your heart jus' wasn't there today." _

_"I'm jus' tired," she replied, waving her tire slightly. Her engine was still warm, and there was still a throbbing under her hood from the day's training. 'It seems like I work harder every day, but there ain't any proof... I try, I really do.' She didn't make eye contact with her father. He was a racing legend, and she couldn't even go fifty laps without spinning out at least three or four times, sometimes five. _

_"You need a break?" Strip asked, settling low on his tires. Concern colored his rusty eyes a shade darker as he waited patiently for Georgia to respond. _

_"No!" Her reply was hasty as she suddenly looked up at him. "I'm fine. I jus' need to get to sleep earlier is all, really, Papa." _

_Strip didn't believe her. She couldn't keep the emotion out of her voice, like her mother. How she reminded him of Lynda; it was crazy. He could look at them side by side and clearly see a difference, but they had the same voice, full of emotion. "Georgia," he started, reaching out to her, but she shied slightly, fearing that he was disappointed. _

_"I'm sorry, I really try, I do. I'm tired is all, jus' tired," she repeated, blinking once or twice. She reigned herself in, reminded herself that she was a Weathers girl. There wasn't any room for trying and failing. She had to make it in this world, if not for herself, but for her parents. "I'm tellin' you, I'll be able to take those turns easy tomorrow." _

_Strip felt a little guilty. He pushed her so hard, set her up, but watched her get knocked down. "You don't have to go down to the track tomorrow if you don't want to. You practice every day, Georgia. You work hard enough, Tex'll understand," he assured her. _

_"No, I can go to the track." She stopped short. 'I want to go the track, don't I?' She couldn't stand that look of upset in his eyes. "I want to go to the track." She reached out with a tire to gently nudge his tire, smiling half-heartedly. "It's all about trying and failing and trying again, right?" _

* * *

Georgia felt a little twinge in her engine as she watched the news.

"So, the question I ask of you, is Chick Hicks washed up? Is he simply wasting his time? I think so. He couldn't capture the Piston Cup during the era of 'The King' Strip Weathers, and has continued to fail in his attempts to win. Lightning McQueen and the pressure seems to have finally gotten to him," the reporter proclaimed, a sure tone about his voice. He turned to his colleague and gestured with her tire as she sent a frown his way.

"Now, Elliot, you seem to be forgetting two things."

"And what would those two things be?" He seemed a little irritated at his colleague's disagreement.

"Well, despite the fact that he cheated to win, by causing that horrible rollover crash, he _did _win the Piston Cup. And Lightning McQueen entered the World Grand Prix, which gave Chick time to recuperate without all of the Lightning fans in his face," she retorted, sounding matter-of-fact.

"Yes, but it's been, what? Four years? If he can't get it together now, he's wasting his time. He ought to retire now and admit defeat," Elliot said, his grill set in a thin line.

"I don't think so. He's just been in a funk is all," she countered.

He looked at her with a pointed expression. "Right. A four year funk. That's very realistic, Veronica."

Georgia tuned the rest of the broadcast out as she finished off her oil, taking the finished can to the counter. Her mind wandered on the name, Chick Hicks. She had met him briefly, a few times, but not enough to suspect that he would cause The King to take a tumble like the one he did. As much as she loathed him for that, she felt sorry for him in some way. He really was washed up, had wasted so much time, put so much effort into his racing career... And to watch it crumble.

_I'm putting too much into this. Chick probably doesn't even feel like he's made a mess of himself, and why dwell on it? _

She cleaned up her area, pulling yesterday's mail towards her to get that out of the way. The news was now a distant hum in the background as she looked through everything, looked at bills, looked at magazine subscription renewal cards, and things of that nature. She pushed the uniform white envelopes aside to pick up a cream yellow one, a little larger than the others.

Slicing the envelope open, she pulled out a letter, folded and written in messy cursive letters addressed to her.

_Georgia - Hi, sweetie. How have you been lately? Your father & I are just fine; we've finally settled into our house in Radiator Springs. It's a nice little town, just the right size, and reminds your father of the place he grew up. He visits the racing museum almost every day, just to see the Hudson Hornet wing. I think it's good for him to get away from the track. After he retired, you know, he was a little down, but here he's happier than I've seen him in a while. That all said, I think you should move out here, too. Your father doesn't want me to say anything, which is why he doesn't know about this letter, so don't tell him, dear, but you've lived there long enough. Don't you want a change? If you are your father's daughter, you must be going a little stir crazy in that house. _

Her mother was right.

_Anyway, dear, we have extra room in our little house for you to stay until you can find a place of your own. The town is booming, so I'm sure you'll be able to find work somewhere. Even if you don't move out here, you should come & visit us soon! We love you, Georgia. - Mama _

Georgia settled in on her wheels, re-reading the letter a few times to let it sink in. Move out to Radiator Springs? To the desert? She was an adult, and her parents wanted her to move in? It was sweet of them, she thought. But her mother had a valid point.

She turned her eyes to the window, watching the leaves float listlessly in the golden morning light. Life was the same here, every day. Her routine was the same. It was a typical life, which she had accepted over the years.

And here her mother was, turning things upside down and watching her tumble out the salt shaker in a blur.

Georgia set the letter on the table, driving over to the telephone. She pressed a button, allowing the keypad to pop out from the wall. She dialed her parents' - new - house number, deciding that at least a visit was in order. She wanted to see the town before she made a decision as big as moving out there.

It rang a few times, until a voice as thick as syrup answered the phone. "Kelly's pool room, how can we help you?"

Georgia paused, glancing at the keypad. She _had _dialed the right number, hadn't she? "Yes, this is Georgia Weathers..."

There was some noise on the other end before a more feminine voice replaced the earlier one. "Your father doesn't use his hood anymore, hun."

She sighed in relief, resting easy on her tires. "When did he start answering the phone that way?"

"I don't know." In the background, she heard Lynda chewing Strip out, but he seemed to be laughing rather than skirting away. "Anyway. You got my letter?"

"Yes. I'm not sure if I want to move out there, but... When do you want me to visit? I think I could use a break."


	3. Like Walls Against the Outside World

So this one's kinda short, but hopefully they will get a little longer as the story goes on. Again, any & all reviews are seriously appreciated! Enjoy! :)

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_It was cooler today than it had been seemingly all summer, which was finally coming to a close. Autumn was only two weeks away now, and Georgia was thankful for the cooler September air. _

_She drove down to the track, which was mostly deserted. Her eyes had already adjusted to the o'dark thirty light of the day. The sun hadn't even peeked over the horizon yet when her wheels hit the track. _

_'I have to do this. I _can _do this.' Her thoughts quickly wavered in the other direction. 'Who am I kidding? I can't even see what I'm doing. How stupid am I?' She idled in the cool morning air, listening to her engine be the only sound that broke the silence. 'No. I have to do this. I'll take it slow, get a feel for the track. Best way to do that is in the dark with just my sense of touch...' _

_Georgia took a deep breath, driving forward, feeling around for the asphalt beneath her. She kept it slow, her eyes wide open. All she could make out were shapes, just faint smudges in the dark, but she could sense the wall dividing the track from the makeshift stands and smell the grass in field. _

_She wavered to the left, carefully, until she felt grass beneath her tires. She drew away again, drifting back to the middle, counting the seconds it took on the way to the grass and back. 'I think I'm in the middle of the track.' She felt the road incline slightly at the curve, after which she slowed down, keeping left slightly so as not to hit the wall. _

_She kept this up for a little while, doing a few laps around the practice track, knocking out lap after lap as the sun showed its first signs of awakening. The buttery golden rays washed over the track as Georgia continued to cruise, simply letting herself feel the asphalt beneath her tries. Her engine was warm now, the exhaust from her tail pipe still visible in the cool air. _

_As the sun began to rise, she sped up, trusting herself to the track. "I've got to make it in this world. It should be in my oil; it's my destiny!" she told herself, taking a sharp curve. But Georgia went a little loose, her tries grasping at the pavement as she tried to get a grip on herself. _

_She straightened out, racing forward to regain her lost ground. She needed to have this down before her father showed up, she needed to show him that here heart was here, all over this track. 'I can do this. I can get it.' _

_Georgia increased her speed as she burst down the track, feeling the wind against her chassis, brushing over her hood, her eyes watering slightly as she came up on the next turn. She pressed forward, settled low on her wheels as her father did, but when she came off the curve, she came off wide. She saw the wall rushing to meet her - or felt herself rushing to meet the wall - and quickly swerved left. She didn't have any desire to taste the wall as many cars before her had. _

_She skidded to a halt, breathing heavy as her engine rumbled, practically roaring, despite her shaky frame. She idled for a moment, shaken by her close encounter. 'Papa's come close before, too. Everybody has close calls, right? Even the best of the best.' But she couldn't deny that she was a little frightened. _

* * *

Georgia spent a few days getting things together before her trip out to Radiator Springs. She had to take time off work, get someone to watch the house, make sure everything was in order. After a long discussion with her mother, she had decided to stay a month in the small town, so she would have time to get a feel for what life might be like there. Besides, her mother had said, since the racing season was about to start, she'd have time to see the more hectic side of life.

The car gathered up her belongings, making sure to stow them in her trunk. She had kept up with the weather forecast for Radiator Springs all week, and it looked like it was going to be _hot_. It always seemed hot at the start of the racing season; her father had always come out of his races with a heated engine and the want for nothing more than a cool ration of oil, something Georgia had admired. Strip had always seemed to savor the little things in life.

She paused to look out the window at the thick green leaves on the trees, flirting with the wind as they always had, and the buttery sunshine pouring through the window as she had always remembered it. _Why would I want to move away from this place? Things here are beautiful and quiet. _The town was her safe haven; it acted like a wall against the world, a world she had seemingly lost all flavor for.

Georgia turned off the television, reversing and pulling away from it to drive towards the door that separated the kitchen from the garage. The faded, off-white garage door was up, revealing more of that warm, buttery sunshine. But as she looked on, something about her mother's words stirred up her tank. _No, no, _she thought, shaking her hood. _This is home, isn't it? Everything is here. The track, the house I grew up in... _Her tank still churned; her engine wouldn't settle. She left the garage, pulling out onto the quaint neighborhood street she remembered playing near as a child.

Georgia knew the way to the old practice track like no other - she could have driven there with her eyes closed. And now that she was grown, it all seemed smaller, shorter than she remembered. Her emotions, however, remained the same. Mixed. There was the lingering feeling of fear, pressure, and the smell of oil, sweat, and tears never left the path. But there was joy, pride, and a calm quiet feeling that caused her to slip into her memories.

When she came upon the gate that now had rust, ten shades deeper than the rusty eyes she had inherited from Strip, it reminded her how long ago it was that she had trained here. She pushed open the gate, listening to the creaking noise it made. Her tank churned, her breakfast sloshing around nervously like it had all those years ago.

She drove down to the track, idling by the asphalt, which was an exhausted, lifeless gray. But she knew better than to think that this track was _lifeless_. It still held all those memories, the memories of her father guiding her around the curves, Tex's words and thick Southern drawl, lighter than Strip's, but equally as syrup-y. She could close her eyes and smell the fuel, hear the laughter of the crew, and hear tires - her tires, her father's - zooming across the once midnight black pavement.

Even though the color faded from the track long ago, the piece of her life that she had lived out on it still remained prevalent.

Georgia didn't stay long at the track. She didn't really need to. Her mother's words, ringing in her ears, made sense to her now. She needed a life away from memories that suffocated her.


	4. Looking for a Nice Grudge Story

Two chapters in a day! Woot woot. I feel accomplished. XD Anyway, I wanted to give a little more insight into Chick & The King in this chapter. They're both two of my personal favorites, especially King. R&R is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

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Chick spent the better part of his week holed up in his apartment on the pretense that he was getting ready for his drive out to Radiator Springs. In reality, he was avoiding the inevitable. He was going to have to face McQueen eventually; he was bound to run into the racecar. Not that he wouldn't have minded giving the younger car a few choice words, but he didn't want to be on the same track as McQueen - let alone stay in the same town.

Speaking of the hot shot, he was all over the news. "Lightning McQueen has been looking great out on the practice track," Darrell Cartrip was commenting. "If he keeps it up, he'll have another Piston Cup under his rims by the end of this year." Chick rolled his eyes, turning around in a lame attempt to tune it all out, but he couldn't ignore anything involving McQueen.

Or The King, for that matter. "It's impressive how Lightnin' has grown out on the track. He's really gotten his hood together." Chick reversed, turning his dark brown eyes back to the television. The retired, still baby blue Plymouth Superbird flashed across the screen, his wife beside him. They were caught coming out of the racing museum in Radiator Springs, as it seemed, and "had nothing but good things to say about McQueen."

"Figures," Chick muttered under his breath.

The interview went on, the reporter questioning Strip about his retirement. The piece seemingly shifted focus from the hot shot red racer to the veteran, whose tail fin Chick had chased his entire career. "My retirement's jus' fine. I'm enjoying seeing all the younger racecars out there, more than anything else," Strip answered, gesturing slightly with his tires.

"That's great to hear, Mr. Weathers. It certainly seems like it's been a while since we saw you out on that track. How long ago was it?"

"Six or seven years," he answered, chuckling slightly. "It doesn't feel like it, though." Chick shook his head. _Weathers is losing it. It hasn't been _that _long, has it? No way. It's been four years, I'm pretty sure. _Chick continued to listen, his attention captured effectively now. He was completely wrapped up in the interview. "It feels like yesterday that I was out on the track, out on that pavement."

"Do you miss it?"

The King paused a moment, glancing at Lynda, whose eyes had been resting on her husband for the entirety of the encounter with the reporter. Strip smiled and turned his rusty eyes back to the reporter. "Every day. But there are other more important things than just racin'." Lynda smiled, her blue eyes softening. It was obvious that The King had his priorities straight. He always had.

Chick felt something a little like jealousy in his tank, something he brushed off, ignoring it. That was another thing he hadn't quite gotten a grip on - his jealousy towards Strip Weathers. Everybody knew it was there, everybody could see it behind his eyes, yet he still couldn't - wouldn't - admit it to himself.

"I think everybody can respect that, Mr. Weathers, and I know that all of your fans still miss you nonetheless."

Strip shook his head, chuckling again. "That was one of the hardest parts about retiring - not bein' able to get out on that track and see all of the folks who supported you."

The reporter nodded. "You've definitely had a lot of support over the years, from Dinoco's owner, Tex, the fans, Mrs. Weathers."

"Mhm. There've been a lot of days where I needed support, and they were there."

"Especially after your last race, I'm sure." Chick knew where the reporter was going with this - _'Have you had any contact with Chick Hicks? Do you hate him like the rest of the world does?' _And Chick was pretty sure that The King would say yes.

Strip nodded. "Oh, of course. It was rough, but I made it out in one piece." He grinned, as if the memory of the horrible wreck didn't haunt him. Not that it haunted Chick or anything like that, you know.

"Speaking of which, if you don't mind that I ask, have you heard from Chick Hicks since then?" _And there it is, _Chick thought bitterly, settling back on his tires cooly.

The King shifted to one side, his expression one of befuddlement. "Well, I haven't heard from Chick since that day. Sure wish I had, though."

Chick had heard enough. He turned off the television completely, whirling around and driving out of the small living room of his apartment. He disappeared into his room, collected his things, and returned to make a phone call, but the actions were merely just that - actions, just a blur of things, while his hood was going in every direction now. _'Sure wish I had, though.' Yeah, right! You sure wish you had, Weathers. Just so you could play hero, and forgive me, and every car would just fall at your tires like they always do. _Chick jammed the button to pop the keypad out from the wall, punching in the number of his driver.

It rang a couple of times before the big rig picked up. "You ready to go, boss?"

"Yeah," Chick muttered. "I'm ready all right." _Ready to face McQueen _and _The King? Yeah, right. I'm ready. _

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Boss?"

"What?" Chick immediately mentally smacked himself for his tone. _Yeah, I'm pissed, but I don't need to take it out on him. _"Listen, I-"

"No, I understand." The green racer half-expected his driver's tone to be short and clipped; instead it was the same easy voice he was accustomed to. "I'll be there in half an hour, tops."

"Thanks." Before either could hang up, Chick cut in, "Hey, did you see that interview with Weathers that was on a few minutes ago?"

"Yeah. I'm assuming you did?"

"Yeah." Chick paused, wondering if he should ask how the rest of the interview went. He couldn't avoid the want to know what _else _may have been mentioned, but he decided that he really didn't care. He didn't want to know; he didn't need another car pointing things out for him. "I'll see you in half an hour."

"Sure thing, boss."

* * *

By now, Strip would have expected himself to be used to the paparazzi, the reporters, the cameras and the likes. He was wrong.

The reporter, a spunky looking little VW Beetle, stopped him on his way out of the racing museum. "Mr. Weathers!"

He cast his eyes towards the road, after which Lynda sighed quietly, and he glanced down at her, saying discreetly, "If you want, we can pretend we didn't hear him. We _are _getting old, after all." Lynda nudged her husband's side, a smile forming across her grill at his comment.

"No, we shouldn't be rude."

"But I really think you want to pretend you didn't hear him, darlin'."

Lynda nudged him again, laughing quietly under her breath as the Beetle drove up to them. "Good morning Mr. and Mrs. Weathers," he began, with that sort of tone that most reporters had. Strip preferred the race announcers, like Darrell or Bob, over the young reporters who clipped their accents and took all the fun out of everything.

"Mornin'," Strip greeted, offering a smile in return. He was still interested in his earlier suggestion, but Lynda's tire was right in his side, so he figured he ought to stay put.

"Good morning, son," Lynda answered, with a smile of her own. Strip glanced down at her, momentarily forgetting his plan to admire her golden smile, which hadn't faltered in all the years he'd known her. He settled in beside her, satisfied to have her beside him still.

"My name is Elliot Trace - I'm a reporter and columnist for the racing magazine, _Fast and Hot_. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?" the Beetle asked.

"Not at all," The King replied, gesturing for the kid to go on. _Got to admire his boldness. _

"Thank you." He cleared his throat. "So, after your retirement from the racing world, it seemed like Lightning McQueen accepted the challenge of becoming the new star race car."

Strip thought for a moment, _These boys sure are long-winded. _Instead, he answered with, "Lightnin' has always been a star, even before everybody else thought he was a star. He's got a lot of confidence, but that's part of what I like about him."

Elliot nodded, smiling. "I think that's what makes him appealing to a lot of cars. What are your other thoughts on Lightning McQueen?"

"It's impressive how Lightnin' has grown out on the track. He's really gotten his hood together," Strip answered, nodding.

The little Beetle nodded some more, taking notes as the camera crew positioned themselves, moving slightly to get better angles and such. "He really took off, especially after his rookie year. It was something special to see a veteran racer and a hot shot rookie out on the track together. A sign of the times, testaments of the generations," Elliot remarked. Strip nodded as well, although something small caught his attention. _He didn't say anything about Chick. _This bothered him slightly - he understood that Chick was well-hated for what he had done, but what he didn't understand was how that constituted wiping his name out of everything, especially in conversation with The King.

Elliot continued, "So, how does being retired from the racing scene feel, Mr. Weathers?"

"My retirement's jus' fine. I'm enjoying seeing all the younger racecars out there, more than anything else," Strip commented, his tires moving in gesture.

"That's great to hear, Mr. Weathers. It certainly seems like it's been a while since we saw you out on that track. How long ago was it?"

"Six or seven years. It doesn't feel like it, though," the Plymouth Superbird answered, shaking his hood as he chuckled. "It feels like yesterday that I was out on the track, out on that pavement."

"Do you miss it?"

Strip glanced down at Lynda, catching the way she was watching him affectionately. It distracted him a little, a smile crossing his grill as he answered, "Every day. But there are other more important things than just racin'." Lynda's pretty blue eyes softened at his comment.

"I think everybody can respect that, Mr. Weathers, and I know that all of your fans still miss you nonetheless." Elliot smiled, looking between the couple.

"That was one of the hardest parts about retiring - not bein' able to get out on that track and see all of the folks who supported you," The King responded with another chuckle.

"You've definitely had a lot of support over the years, from Dinoco's owner, Tex, the fans, Mrs. Weathers."

"Mhm. There've been a lot of days where I needed support, and they were there."

"Especially after your last race, I'm sure," Elliot commented. Strip had a feeling he knew where the kid was going with this - he wanted to talk about the wreck, and probably Chick, too.

"Oh, of course. It was rough, but I made it out in one piece," the baby blue Plymouth said jokingly, a grin on his grill.

Elliot cut to the chase. "Speaking of which, if you don't mind that I ask, have you heard from Chick Hicks since then?"

_And there it is, _Strip thought, unsurprised. A lot of interviews went this way, which got to be troublesome and a little (okay, a lot) tiring after a while. His grin was instantly wiped from his countenance, a puzzled look replacing it. He didn't want to breach this subject too much, not because he was uncomfortable with it, but because everyone around him still seemed to hold a grudge.

"Well, I haven't heard from Chick since that day. Sure wish I had, though."

"To make amends? Or confront him?"

Strip shifted to one side, eyeing the Beetle before him. _I don't know if this kid is bold, or just plain stupid. This isn't really the kind of thing to be askin' after so long. _Not wanting his pause to make Elliot think his answer was the latter of the two, he said, "Jus' to talk to him. I haven't seen Chick in a while, and it would be nice to catch up and see how he's doing."

The young reporter seemed a little surprised by this answer, like he expected The King to be upset over Chick's intentional actions. He was almost speechless, yet he composed himself quickly, jumping back into the interview. "That's an interesting way to look at it, Mr. Weathers." Strip got the feeling that Elliot was looking more for a grudge story rather than the real thing. "Well, thank you for your time. It was a real pleasure talking to you." Elliot nodded politely at Lynda. "It was nice to meet you, too, ma'am."

"Not a problem," replied the Plymouth. And with the farewells all in order, Elliot and his camera crew retreated from the scene, leaving the Weathers couple to their own devices.

"He was a very... Audacious car," Lynda remarked carefully when they were alone. "Unafraid."

"I don't know what he was lookin' for, but I imagine he didn't find it," Strip added.

Lynda shook her hood. "We both know what he wanted, Strip."

_He won't get it from me, then. _Strip simply shrugged his tires loosely, changing the subject. "I don't know about you, but I'm dyin' of thirst here, darlin'. Would you like to drop by Flo's with me?"

Lynda laughed, nodding. "Sure, hun." His Southern drawl and gentlemanly charm had always seemed to sway her.


	5. Wild Goose Chase!

Woot! Okay, so thanks again to MereMcQueen314, Lackofmonkey, and Darkey Ashland for the awesome reviews! They made my day! :D Anyway, I'm happy with the way this chapter turned out, and I hope the readers enjoy it, too. All reviews are super appreciated, whether it's critique, comments, thoughts, anything! Enjoy~

* * *

Radiator Springs, despite its growth over the past years, was still a blast from the past.

Georgia drove down the smooth black stretch of road that was Main Street, passing a hut all decked out in fluorescent lights, peace signs, flowers, and beads that formed a curtain over the entrance. She was tempted to stop there, to take a peek and see what the outward flare was all about, but she was more enticed by the idea of seeing her parents.

The car sped up a little, passing an old military surplus hut, a motel made out of caution cones, a knick knack shop - this town had it all. She liked the old timey feel it gave off, especially at night, since the neon was all lit up and the town was a little quieter. She could understand why her mother and father had chosen this place as their home.

She pulled into Flo's V8 cafe after the long drive, wondering where her parents might be hiding, or where their house might be as a vibrant cherry red Miata drove up to her, parking a few feet away with a huge, white smile. "Welcome to Flo's V8 Cafe! I'm Tia - what can I get for you?" The little Miata was lively, considering how late it was, but it was nice of her and Georgia was thirsty.

"Somethin' hot and strong," the Southerner replied, smiling at Tia. The Miata was gone in a flash, disappearing into the cafe to ask Flo what drink was the hottest and strongest.

Georgia settled down on her tires, looking around and admiring all of the neon. _This is place is beautiful... I remember I used to dream about places like this when I was a kid. _She had always loved driving through cities at night when she and Lynda would go to The King's races. The city lights were so bright and so appealing, but it was ten times better now that she was older.

"It's nice, ain't it?"

Georgia shifted her gaze to rest on the car parked in front of her, and immediately her eyes dropped to the bull horns on his fender. She lit up like a Christmas tree. "Tex!"

The Texan laughed, driving around to park beside her. "I haven't seen you in years, Georgia Rian. When your mama said you would be in town, I figured I'd wait around to see my favorite niece."

"I'm your _only _niece," Georgia laughed, shaking her hood.

Tex nudged her with his tire as Tia drove up with the hottest, strongest thing she could get her tires on. "Here you go, Miss," Tia said, setting the drink down in front of her.

"Thank you, Tia," Georgia replied, pulling the drink towards her. The canister was hot to the touch, warming her tires and calming her tank. Tia turned to Tex, but he smiled and said no thank you with such a syrup-y drawl that even Tia's incredibly wide smile widened. When she drove off, Georgia looked back to Tex. "So how's everything been with you? It's been, well, forever since I saw you last."

The golden Cadillac shrugged his tires. "Keepin' my eyes out for a new racer for Dinoco. There's a lotta good talent out there this season, you know."

"Got your eyes on anybody specific?"

"Not yet, although that Sage VanDerSpin has been burnin' up the practice track," Tex answered casually.

"What about McQueen? He's still with Rust-Eze, right?" Georgia still followed racing - just not as much as she had when she was younger.

Tex nodded. "If he wasn't, I'd already have a new racer for Dinoco." The Cadillac sat back on his tires, shaking his hood. "Well hell, Georgia. I'd have a new racer if that Hicks boy hadn't cheated. He had all the grit and determination that I was lookin' for, but he ruined it for himself."

"You would have sponsored him?"

"I'm not sayin' I would have, but I'm not sayin' I wouldn't have offered it to him, either," Tex responded, looking at her pointedly.

Georgia sipped her fuel, nodding as she let his words sink in. _I wonder if Chick has thought about this? _

"But that's enough about Dinoco," he finished, with a voice that Georgia recognized enough to know that he meant he was done talking about it. "So what have you done with yourself lately? Strip says you're still livin' down near that old practice track."

"Yeah," she confirmed. "Never had any reason to leave." Tex saw in her expression the same calm neutrality that Strip usually kept, but her voice betrayed that expression. It was like Lynda's had always been, descriptive and emotional, and even when their voices were void of emotion - that was when they were the most telling. Georgia's voice was flat.

Tex nudged her with his tire again, smiling at the younger car. "Well, I think your mama's right when she says you oughta move out here."

Georgia's eyelids went up slightly, but her adoptive uncle's smile seemed to shatter whatever was bothering her. "Does Papa still think so, too?" she asked with a playful tone. "It seems like that's what everybody's thinkin'." The moment of discomfort, however slight it was, was gone now, and both cars settled back in on their tires.

"They're just lookin' out for you, Georgia Rian," Tex commented.

"Speakin' of which," she started, finishing up her drink, "would they still be up at this hour? If they aren't, I'll jus' stay at the motel and surprise them in the morning."

* * *

In the morning, Georgia awoke to a cute little car popping out of a caution cone-themed alarm clock. It was eight in the morning, the time for warm sunshine to pour through windows and get her day on its way. She gave herself a few minutes to wake up, her eyes adjusting to the walls of the Cozy Cone, which were a vibrant orange color. They blended well with the incoming rays of light.

Georgia stole a glance out the window, catching a difference in the shades of light. Unlike home, where the rays were soft and buttery like homemade breakfast, they were warm and particularly burning, but crisper and fresher than she had seen them in a while. Georgia drove out of her caution cone in time to hear the National Anthem being played over the radio - and it was sharply interrupted by Jimi Hendrix's rendition.

The car laughed to herself as an old war veteran started shouting across the way, towards the hut that had all been decked out with peace signs and flowers.

"Respect the classics man!" she heard in rebuttal as she drove over to Flo's. She and Tex had agreed to meet there this morning, and from there he would take her to the Weathers household. She was excited to see her parents again, as it had been so long since they had moved out of the house. It was funny, she thought, that they had moved out instead of her.

Georgia pulled into the cafe, watching as the same Miata from last night drove over to her. She wore the same vibrant smile as she introduced herself. "Welcome to Flo's V8 Cafe! I'm Mia - how can I help you?" Georgia looked confused for a second. _Did she just say her name was Mia? I thought it was Tia. Is her voice different...? No, I'm just hearing things. I really need some fuel. _

"Good morning," she greeted, smiling. "I think I'd just like something caffeinated." With that Mia - or Tia, or whatever her name was - drove off to get her drink.

Georgia was able to get a better look at the town now that it was daylight. While everything was beautiful at night, it was just as stunning during the day. It was a simple town, despite its expansion after McQueen set up his headquarters here. She noticed two little Italians arguing over their tires (at least, that's what she assumed based on the yellow Fiat's words), and a large fire truck watering some flowers here and there.

She was distracted for a few minutes and didn't see the car driving towards her.

"Georgia Rian!" The accent was as thick as ever, and just his voice made most of the cars in the cafe lot turn their eyes.

Georgia jumped, turning to see who it was that had scared the crap out of her like that - this would be the second time somebody had surprised her in the past 24 hours - and she half expected it to be Tex again. _Tex always loved doing that in the morning... Especially if I had a hoodache. _

Her hunch was correct.

"Mornin', Tex!" She tried to sound as boisterous as he did, but the sleepiness hadn't left her yet.

He drove up in front of her right as Mia arrived to deliver the fuel. With a quick thank you exchanged for the fuel, Mia disappeared to drop off a few other canisters. "Hurry up and finish up that fuel," Tex told her. "We've got to get a move on before your parents leave the house."

Georgia hurried to finish her drink, used to rushing her breakfast down from all the days she had practice. She felt a twang of familiarity in her engine just being around Tex so early in the morning; it gave her the feeling of anticipation and nervousness, but she reminded herself that she wasn't training today. She hadn't trained in _years_.

After her short-lived breakfast, the two cars drove from Flo's and along a back road, which was dusty and scattered dirt throughout her rims. The road took them around a freshly painted white fence, behind the old brick buildings. They were headed towards a house positioned out behind the older buildings, the fresh white panels a total contrast to the maroon bricks just across the way.

Tex drove up the ramp and onto the porch, moving to the side so that Georgia could come up to knock on the door with her tire. She heard no voices on the other side, no engines, no tires stirring about. She frowned, looking over at the Cadillac. "Did they go out already?" She had assumed since Strip was retired already that they would sleep in and spend the days leisurely.

"We must've just missed them," he answered, looking around.

Georgia's eyelids went up again as she looked at Tex curiously. "Tex?"

He grinned mischievously, winking at her as he drove down off of the porch. "Go around back and see what you find there. I'll be at Flo's if you have any questions."

"Questions? Why would I have questions? Tex? Tex! Wait..." Georgia started off the ramp, but he had already disappeared back down the road in a cloud of dust. She sighed, shaking her hood. "Sometimes I wonder what goes through his mind." She drove around the back, which was had patches of grass here and there, but for the most part was dirt. The back porch was adequately sized, large enough for two or three if not four or five cars. She drove up the ramp and onto the porch, which smelled of lavender.

_Mama always liked the way lavender smelled in the morning. _Georgia drove up to the small table, atop which there was a canister. It was placed right in the center, tempting her to pull it from its spot and see what was inside.

Inside was a small piece of paper written in her father's tire writing. _JR - go to the statue of Stanley in front of the courthouse. Don't ask questions, because you'll just confuse yourself if you try to think about it. _In big, overdramatic letters, he had signed 'The King'. She shook her hood, tucking the note into her rim and driving away from the house.

"The statue of Stanley in front of the courthouse? Hmmm... What is he up to now?" Georgia drove onto the pavement, already able to see the courthouse. It towered above the other buildings, an imposing feature of the town. It seemed like it would be the figurehead, and if so, it served its purpose well. There was a statue of an old model car with golden teeth sitting in front of the courthouse, just as the note had described.

She read the plaque aloud. "Stanley, our founder. Hm." She drove circles around the statue, careful not to disturb the flowers at all. Tucked beneath one of the statue's back wheels was another note, but this time it was in her mother's tire writing. _Your father thinks this is all really hilarious, dear, so I decided to play along. Anyway, you should have already noticed the beautiful flowers sitting beside the statue. Nudge the pot carefully. _

"What the heck...?" Georgia put the new note with the other one, carefully reaching down to nudge the orange flower pot.

As soon as her tire came in contact with the pottery, she heard tires squeal against the dirt and a large shadow overtook her. She looked up with wide eyes to find the same large fire truck that she had seen earlier parked before her, a sort of panicky look on his face.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know these were your flowers! My parents are kind of slightly insane and they left me a note leading me to this flower pot..." _I must sound insane. _

The fire truck's expression calmed, a smile coming over his grill as he reached into one of his own rims to pull out a third piece of paper. After he handed it over to her, he disappeared back into the courthouse, which also seemed to be the fire station. "Um, okay. Thank you!" she called after him, unfolding the paper. "My parents are nuts." It was her father's writing again. _Go over to Casa Della Tires and talk to the little blue forklift. His name is Guido. _

Georgia had to admit, her parents had definitely caught her interest.


	6. Your Eyes

I'm surprised I got this chapter out as fast as I did. MereMcQueen314, you are _awesome_! Thanks for the constant reviews! :D Anyway, I'm going to try to update this as much as possible. This chapter will probably be a little strange, but, it will make sense later on. Reviews are welcomed! Enjoy~ :)

* * *

When Georgia arrived at the tire shop, the first thing she noticed was that the leaning tower of tires was overwhelmingly tall if you got right up next to it. After marveling at it for a little while, the second thing she discovered was that there was no little blue forklift in sight. There was, however, a small yellow Fiat - the one who had been arguing about tires earlier in the day.

"Good mornin'," Georgia greeted, driving up to the shop's entrance. The Fiat drove out of his store to greet her with a smile and heavily accented hello.

"_Ciao_!" he said, stopping in front of her. "You-a come to my shop for a new set of tires?"

"No," she replied sheepishly. "I'm actually lookin' for a forklift by the name of Guido. Is he around here anywhere...?" Her eyes drifted up to the sign above the entrance, which read 'Luigi's Casa Della Tires'. She knew she was in the right place, and she guessed that the little Fiat was Luigi. "You're Luigi, right?" _I might as well introduce myself if I'm going to be staying here for a month. It would be awkward if I didn't learn anyone's names. _"My name is Georgia Weathers. I just came into town last night, so I have no idea where I'm goin'."

Luigi nodded, gesturing for Georgia to follow him into the shop. "Guido should-a be around here somewhere. Guido!"

From the back of the store, Georgia could hear the faint sound of crashing boxes, and some words that she could guess the meaning of by the speaker's tone of voice. "What was that...?" she questioned, glancing over at Luigi, who didn't look surprised at all.

"The boxes must-a have fell on him again," the Fiat mumbled, sighing in exasperation as he drove to the back of the store. "Guido! Are you all right?" Georgia followed him to the storage room, where a mountain of cardboard boxes had fallen over. Beneath the mess was a small blue forklift, who she deduced to be Guido. "Guido, there is-a someone here to-a see you."

Guido was speaking in rapid Italian, too fast for Georgia to even begin to make out the syllables of the words, but Luigi seemed to understand him just fine. "Yes, I know, the boxes are a fire hazard. We will-a get rid of them, but there is a lady here to-a see you, Guido!" Luigi pulled some boxes out from around the forklift's wheels, and Georgia pitched in to get the task of digging Guido out go by more quickly.

The little Italian's grill puckered in a frown, but he simply crossed his forklift arm...hand...things, and drove out of the storage room. "_Ciao, signora_," he greeted, nodding.

"_Ciao_," she returned. "The fire truck at the courthouse-"

"Red?"

"I think that's his name, yes. Anyway, the fire truck at the courthouse gave me a note, and that note lead me here to Casa Della Tires. Do you have the next note?"

Guido drove past her over to a small desk in the corner, retrieving a small folded piece of paper similar to the other three she had collected.

"No wonder Mrs. The King stopped-a by early this morning," Luigi commented. "So you-a are her daughter?"

"Mhm." Georgia smiled, driving over to Guido. "My parents and my uncle sent me on a wild goose chase around the town. By the way, Luigi, is it? And Guido. Your shop looked really cool last night when I drove into town. I like the tire tower outside, too."

"You like the Leaning Tower of Tires?" Luigi smiled proudly as Georgia reached for the note, which Guido handed over.

"Yeah, it's...authentic." She nodded. "How do you say 'thank you' in Italian?"

"_Grazi!_" Luigi replied.

"_Grazi_, Guido," she thanked, turning to the little forklift as she unfolded the note. This one was a change - it was written in Tex's tire writing. "This is different. Okay then." It read: _So by now I guess you've figured out that this is a little scavenger hunt. You also probably think that since you've found my note, you're almost finished, right? You're not even close. After you leave the tire shop, drive back to the Cozy Cone and go into the main office. _

"Do you-a know where to go next?" Luigi asked, looking excited.

"Yeah, I think so. Back to the Cozy Cone. Thanks - I mean, _grazi_!" Georgia waved and then sped out of the shop, pulling onto the road to get down to the Cozy Cone's main office. _I wonder what this is? I feel like a kid again on Easter, looking for eggs with Gaskits in them... _The drive down to the Cozy Cone only took a couple of minutes, and as she turned into the parking lot, she had to make a quick stop to let a large green big rig drive by. The side of the trailer he was hauling had the name 'Chick Hicks' written in dramatic letters across the side, and the racer's face was plastered across it.

Georgia watched the big rig drive down the street a little, before pulling into Flo's. _Chick Hicks? What is he doing here in Radiator Springs...? _

She pulled into the Cozy Cone parking lot, her thoughts stirred up considerably as she drove into the main office. She screeched to a halt, not having seen the car parked in front of the desk. She pulled back a little when she realized who it was, quickly shutting her mouth and hoping he didn't recognize her. _We've only met once or twice before, and we hardly even spoke to each other. I don't think he'll remember me. _

"Cone number 5," the pretty blue Porsche behind the desk said, sounding cheerful but slightly exasperated. She looked like she knew who this guy was, but she wasn't going to turn him out. _Everybody still remembers him for what he did. _She felt sorry - he made one huge mistake and that was how every car for the rest of, well, ever was going to remember him.

"Thanks," he mumbled, turning to leave. Georgia barely had time to reverse, her eyes widening slightly at how abruptly he had turned around. Chick glanced at her, did a double take, and skidded to a halt. He narrowed his eyes, looking her over once, twice. Where did he recognize this car from?

"Hello," Georgia started, offering him a smile. Chick's eyelids went up in a surprise and hers went up as well.

"Weathers," he said suddenly, scoffing.

"It's nice to see you, too, Chick," she greeted.

"'Nice to see you, too, Chick,'" he muttered, shaking his hood. As he drove away, she thought she heard him say something to the effect of, "Just like your dad, aren't you?"

Georgia sighed, her tank settling itself. _Why did I get so nervous? It's Chick Hicks, and besides, I really don't think he's going to do anything. _She ignored her inner questions and drove up to the desk. "Mornin'."

"Good morning," the Porsche greeted. By the name plate on the desk, Georgia discovered that her name was Sally. "I didn't make the connection last night when you checked into the motel."

"Connection?"

"Georgia Weathers," Sally stated. "I didn't make the connection to The King."

"Oh! Right, right. Most cars don't," Georgia answered, nodding. "I guess he left a note here, too?"

Sally nodded. "He did. But he told me not to give it to you."

"What?" Georgia looked confused, and queried, "What did he say?"

"Well, he told me that this whole scavenger hunt was going to be too easy if all you had to do was drive around collecting notes," Sally explained, a smile forming across her grill at the memory of Strip's bluntness about the whole thing.

Georgia leaned forward slightly. "And what do I need to do to get the note...?" She grinned slightly, knowing that it was only a matter of time before she had to do something that was as crazy as her father was.

"You have to catch McQueen to get it."

"_Catch _McQueen? The Lightning McQueen?" she questioned, dumbfounded. "He's gotta be kiddin', right?"

Sally shook her hood, nodding to the entrance as an engine revved behind Georgia. "Nope. I'm pretty sure he was serious."

_Of course. Leave it to Strip Weathers to think up something totally insane. _She laughed to herself, shaking her hood. "Okay. Thank you, Sally." She reversed out of the main office, turning to face McQueen. "So are you going to make this easy, or am I really going to have to chase you down?"

Lightning smirked, shifting to one side of his tires. "I can't really ignore a legendary racer's request, so, you know."

"Wonderful. I'm ready whenever you are," Georgia remarked, gesturing with her tires. But before she even finished the sentence, McQueen had taken off out of the parking lot and was speeding across the pavement to get to the dirt road. She peeled out of the parking lot after him, feeling out of shape as she sped after the hot shot racecar.

* * *

It lasted a little while, Georgia driving around like a maniac trying to catch McQueen, but he had picked up a lot of tricks from the Fabulous Hudson Hornet.

"That boy can _go_," Strip laughed, shaking his hood. "And JR looks like she's just about had enough."

"I'm surprised she hasn't given up yet," Sheriff added, settling on his tires. He, Strip, and Tex were all parked in the nook of a small garage where Georgia and McQueen couldn't see them, but they could see the two younger cars. "What's her name now, Strip? JR?"

"That's what he calls her," Tex cut in, watching the two cars go back and forth. "Which doesn't really make sense, Strip."

"It makes perfect sense," King responded matter-of-factly. "Her name is Georgia Rian. JR."

"You spell Georgia with a 'J'?" Sheriff looked confused.

"Nope."

Tex shook his hood. "I told you, it doesn't make sense."

The three older cars looked on as Georgia and Lightning sped across the road, acting like little cars playing tag in the middle of a parking lot. Which was what they were doing - playing tag in the Cozy Cone parking lot, except Georgia was it and had been it for the entire game.

"When should I go 'arrest' them?" Sheriff questioned after another ten minutes of the madness.

"Well, since I have to make sure she's at the Wheel Well by one for lunch with Lynda and me, now would be as good a time as ever," Strip replied with a nod.

"Okie dokie then." Sheriff put on his 'arresting' voice, his sirens, and burst out of the garage and into the street. Lightning, right on cue, bolted off down the street, taking a hard left curve and disappearing. Georgia's eyes widened as she skidded to a halt, looking over at the sheriff. "Miss! What do you think you're doin'? Speedin' in my town! That's a disgrace!"

(Strip was in the background secretly laughing, but only because he realized Lynda was going to kill him for failing to tell her that this was part of the plan.)

"Dear Lord, Officer! No, you don't understand," Georgia started quickly, gesturing with her tires. "My father sent me on this crazy scavenger hunt to find all these notes, but apparently it was too easy, and so I had to catch McQueen to get the next note!" She couldn't _believe _that this was happening, especially at a time like this. _Can this get any worse? _

"Excuses, excuses! Mater!"

Before Georgia knew what to think, her hood was spinning, and a tow cable had been latched to her bumper, not to mention the quick application of a boot. Everybody was staring now, and Georgia's light blue fender was a shade of crimson embarrassment, the kind that comes from being publicly arrested for speeding after your legendary racecar father sends you on a random scavenger hunt. _Nobody in their right minds would believe that story. _

She tried to pretend that nobody was staring at her, and that really this wasn't happening, but she had never been good at denying things. She sighed in defeat as the tow truck pulled her down along the road. Her eyes scanned the crowd of faces and eyes, and the first pair that they connected with belonged to none other than Chick Hicks. He was watching her intently, the same shade of befuddlement that was on everyone else's faces mirrored on his.

But those eyes. They were the most intense eyes she had ever seen, and quickly she looked away, momentarily forgetting that she was being publicly arrested.


	7. First Impressions

So in this chapter I only own Georgia and Sam, Chick's driver. Anyway, I thought I'd have a Chick flashback in this chapter. Besides that, there's not much else to say! Thanks to the readers and reviewers so far, and as always, any reviews are welcome! :) Enjoooy!

* * *

"Thanks," Chick muttered, turning to leave. _I just wanted to know what cone I was in. _McQueen's girlfriend was nice, and she didn't talk to him like he was trash to be thrown aside, but the green racecar wasn't really in the mood for anybody, kind or not, today. He drove past a light blue car, whose eyes he could feel resting on him, which irked him a little bit (okay, a lot). He whirled to give the car a few choice words but stopped abruptly, his eyes narrowing as he looked her over.

_Where do I know you from? This is going to bug the hell out of me if I don't figure it out... _He eyed the paint job, which was strikingly familiar, but it was the eyes that gave it away.

"Hello," Georgia started, offering him a smile. Chick's eyelids went up in a surprise and hers went up as well.

"Weathers," he said suddenly, scoffing. He remembered her now - she used to go to all of her daddy's races and cheer him on from that VIP box with Lynda and Tex. Wasn't she supposed to be the heir to Dinoco? She was The King's own oil and metal, after all. Just the realization that she was related to him made her smile void, as all of his problems were tied back to that incident. Even if he knew it was his fault.

"It's nice to see you, too, Chick," she greeted.

"'Nice to see you, too, Chick,'" he muttered, shaking his hood. As he drove away, he mumbled, "Just like your dad, aren't you?" He pulled out onto the pavement, driving over to Flo's to catch up with his driver. He had to get a few things out of his trailer, because if he was going to stay here, he was at least going to make himself comfortable. The big rig was parked in a comfy little slot and was slugging back some fuel.

He looked up when he saw Chick approaching. "The trailer's around back," he told him, gesturing with a tire.

"Thanks, Sam." The words were rushed and quiet, but Sam got the message Chick was trying to get across. He knew that the green stock car was always moody, which was a shame, because he hadn't always been that way. Even before the race at LA, Chick had an attitude, but he was never moody like this. Now Sam was lucky if he saw the good side of his friend.

Chick drove around to the back of the trailer, his mind wandering on his brief encounter with Georgia Weathers. He had only spoken with her once or twice, a memory that had faded a while ago; however, it seemed that meeting her once again jogged his memory a little bit.

* * *

_It was hot, the air was sticky, and his engine was full to bursting. Chick hadn't raced that hard in his life, but Chrysler did it feel good to get all of that out. Granted, he had spent the entire race chasing that powder blue tailfin, a sight he seemingly couldn't shake from behind his windshield, but that wasn't what bothered him. What bothered him was the fact that he had been so close, and yet with his coming in second place, he had never felt so far away. _

_His first race in the big leagues, his first race up against The King, Strip Weathers. _

_"You did great for your first race, kid," one of the crew remarked, nudging him in the side. _

_"Thanks," Chick replied, half out of breath. He drove away from the mess of reporters and cars, needing a moment to get his bearings. The first car - or vehicle, really - that he went to was his driver, Sam. The guy was just as new at this as he was, but Sam had his hood on straight, his tires on the asphalt. He was the one who kept Chick from going insane when he couldn't sleep on the drives to all of the races. _

_Sam was half asleep in the humid night air, his eyelids drooping slightly, and at first he didn't notice Chick driving towards him. _

_"Sam," the racer started, his voice strident and hoarse. Chick cleared his windpipe, calling Sam's name a little louder this time. "Sammy!" _

_"Huh - what? Oh, sorry, boss," the big rig answered, sitting upright on his tires. He quickly got his bearings, shooting a smile in his friend's direction. "Hey, that was some nice strategy you used out there on that track! Your first race and you're already good enough to rival The King!" Sam was rather proud to be hauling the car that would be the breakout star of the season. _

_"Thanks, Sam. And don't call me boss," Chick told him, parking a few feet away. He stole a few glances around, before settling in on his tires. _

_His voice was a little lackluster, or so Sam noticed. "What's wrong? You had a bang-up race out there!" _

_"I'm fine, Sam. Just a little disappointed is all." _

_"Disappointed?" The big rig blinked. 'How can he be disappointed? That was amazing.' _

_Chick sighed, sounding exhausted. "I just thought I'd win, you know? I've won almost every race up until this one, and I'll tell you, I would have rather come in last than come in second place. Second place in my first race." He laughed slightly. "Any other car would be satisfied with that, but I just can't be. Second best in my first race? No, I want all of it or none of it." _

_Sam wasn't sure that he understood. "Second place puts you in a great spot, boss. I mean, Chick. Your name will be everywhere." _

_"Yeah, I know that." Frustration. Chick was frustrated. "But think about it, Sammy. Second best in my first race. I can only get worse from here, not better. The only way to get better would be to beat Strip Weathers." And although Chick wouldn't say it out loud, he was thinking it: That was unlikely to happen. _

_"I think you're wrong," Sam replied, shaking his massive hood. "You can only get better. You've got a lot of talent and this was only your first race. So you came in second to The King? Most others cars would have come in last. And most cars would be beating themselves up about this - but I know you, and you're not one of those cars." _

_Chick sighed, revving up his engine. "Then why am I so pissed about taking second?" _

_Before the big rig could answer, Chick had driven off, leaving Sam in the sticky heat alone, wondering if the green racer had defeated himself before he had even gotten started. _

_Chick drove around the trailers, which were mostly graced with the presence of the pitties stocking everything away. He swerved around a few of them, expertly avoiding tires that were expertly tossed through the air. He ducked around a corner to a more desolate area of the stadium, where a few cars were drifting around here and there. He moved to grab a can of oil before the crowd poured in, following either The King or Tex or both. _

_He snagged some oil, turning abruptly to make his getaway, only to stop short with a screech of brakes. "I'm sorry!" came a Southern sounding voice, although it was light and sounded more feminine than most of the other Southern voices he was used to. _

_"No, it's my fault," he said quickly, trying to be polite to the girl. She was young, maybe a little younger than he was, but her paint job caused him to pause. 'She must be a diehard Weathers fan,' he thought to himself, looking her over once. She was the same powder blue as The King, and the only thing missing was the Dinoco logo, and the fact that she was built differently than he was. _

_"Chick Hicks, right?" she asked, squeezing past him to get a drink. _

_"Yeah." _

_"I'm Georgia," she introduced. "You raced really well out there." Her compliment came as a surprise to him. _

_"Well, thanks, Georgia." _

_She caught the hint of earlier frustration in his voice, one of her eyelids going up as she took a sip of her drink. "Not as good as winning though, right? I know how that goes..." She shook her hood, but she smiled at him. "Strip is definitely goin' to be hard to beat." She nodded towards him, though. "But you're good - scary good. I was worried you_ were _going to beat him there for a while!" _

_Chick took a swig off of his drink, listening to this car's words. 'She certainly can talk, that's for sure.' "You're a King fan, then? I figured as much by the paint job." _

_"Oh, well, yeah, of course I'm a fan of The King. He_ is _my dad," she said quickly. _

_Chick almost choked on his fuel. "What?" He stared at her, a look of shock on his face. _

_Before the girl could give a reply, her attention was diverted by the voice of Lynda Weathers. "Georgia Rian! Why did you drive off like that?" _

_She looked back to Chick. "I'm sorry - my mama's goin' to have a tractor if I don't get back to her. It was really nice to meet you, Chick," she told him, her words rushed, but her voice was sincere. "You raced well, so don't beat up on yourself so much. Good luck!" And she turned and drove off, calling, "I'm comin'!" _

_Chick stared after the car, still in shock. 'Was that really...?' He almost didn't believe it. Yet the thing that stuck with him most, were the words she had spoken, and the way she talked as if she had tasted the same disgusted defeat that he had tasted today. _

* * *

Chick collected his crap and drove back to the Cozy Cone to put his belongings in his room, replaying the memory in his mind a few times. As much as he wanted to find something to give him reason to hate Georgia to, he couldn't. The only thing he had against her was the fact that her last name was Weathers, so now he felt like a jerk for talking the way he did.

He placed the things in the room, not bothering to organize them so much as make sure everything was there and that he hadn't left anything in the trailer. The memory was like a highlight reel in his mind, replaying after it had ended. She had been nothing but supportive, and he didn't even _know _her. "For Chrysler's sake," he muttered under his breath, shutting the door to the cone.

The htB sponsored racer drove back to Flo's, where he parked beside Sam.

"Got everything?" Sam checked, hoping to get Chick talking, to somehow relieve the tension.

"Yeah," the stock car replied, pausing for a moment. "Do you remember my first race against Weathers?"

"Of course!" Sam answered, nodding as he finished off his fuel, ordering another canister. "It was amazing. Everybody talked about it for weeks afterward."

"Right, right, but do you remember... Nevermind. I don't want to know, don't want to think about it, and I honestly don't care."

Sam's grill tipped downward in a frown. "What...? I remember that you had your chassis all in a twist for coming in second place."

Chick shot him a glance. "I remember _that _part, Samuel." The big rig rolled his eyes. "I mean, did you see Weathers' girl? Georgia."

"No. I saw him, but the girl and his wife had already left, I think." Sam looked curious. "Why...?"

"No reason," Chick replied nonchalantly. "I ran into her earlier at that stupid caution cone motel."

"Oh?" Sam raised an eyelid, looking down at his friend with a grin.

"_Oh _what? There's nothing to _oh _about! I just ran into her, and she was all, 'It's nice to see you, too, Chick', and it was annoying. Now I'm stuck with McQueen, Weathers, _and _her, that's what I'm getting at, Sam. What, what's with the _oh_? There's no reason for oh!" Chick huffed, causing Sam to raise a tire defensively, but the stock car could see the smirk hiding behind the big rig's grill.

"Okay, don't freak out. It sounds like someone thought it was nice to see you."

"Probably just pity," Chick muttered.

"_Or maybe she was thinking about you and really thought it was nice to run into you_ - hey! Miss Mia! Could I get another canister of fuel?" Sam rushed his words as Chick growled under his breath, glaring up at him.

"I swear, Sam! Sometimes I think you're still like two years old, just trapped in a big guy's body..."

The two went back and forth for a little while, until Sam got distracted by something that was going on in the street. Two cars were jerking around chasing one another, basically playing in traffic, if Sam should say so. They darted around buildings, re-emerging from alleyways, one looking rather flustered and the other looking a little more than triumphant.

"Sam! Sammy! What are you looking - oh." Chick rolled his eyes. "What is McQueen doing now?"

"Is that the car you were asking me about?" Sam gestured to Georgia, who was trying to catch Lightning by the tire.

Chick stared a second. "No!" he said quickly, looking away. _What is it with these cars? As soon as they get into the city limits of this place, everybody goes crazy. Is it something in the fuel? I'm glad nobody besides McQueen's girlfriend saw me talking to her... _Chick looked back at the spectacle, shaking his hood. "I wouldn't drink anymore of the fuel, Sam. I think they put something in it, or something, you know?"

Sam snorted. "Right. I think you should take fun lessons from her. She obviously knows how to have a good time."

"Playing tag in the middle of the road is _a good time_?"

"You know I'm just playing around, boss." Sam settled on his wheels to watch as Sheriff hauled the car away.

Chick watched McQueen speed off. "Leave it to McQueen to drop the blame on somebody else." Unaware of Strip Weathers' elaborate plan, Lightning's actions just added more fuel to the burned out flame that Chick was still trying to stoke. "I wonder what Weathers is going to think of this one, eh? I should personally deliver the news. 'Was that your daughter that got arrested? That's a real shame, Strip.'"

Sam looked at him pointedly. "You would never do something like that, Chick, and you know it."

"You wanna bet?" Chick asked, mostly messing around, but his tone said otherwise.

"You know you wouldn't," Sam retorted. "You're already on the world's hit list - talking like that to The King would only dig yourself further into your grave." Chick blinked, surprised by his driver's bluntness. Yeah, the guy had always been honest, but never like _that_. Was that really what Sam thought? He was digging himself further into his grave, as in he was already in the grave? Was he implicating what Chick _thought _he was? Sam immediately shook his hood, looking a little surprised at his own words. "Chick, I didn't mean for it to sound like that-"

"No," Chick cut in, waving his tire. "I know what you meant."

As he turned to drive out of the parking lot, feeling more than betrayed, he shot one last glance at Georgia. Their eyes connected for a mere moment, before she turned hers away from his, but it was enough to leave him with a stirring feeling in his tank.


	8. Expectations

This thing has been sitting in the document manager for about two months, and I didn't realize it only needed a few additions and a spell/grammar check. It's been crazy, what with family in the hospital, birthdays (mine included), and school, but hopefully I should be getting back to this story. :) Thanks to the people who read & reviewed the last chapter! I really appreciate all of the reviews, so feel free to leave them! Enjoooy!

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Chick drove up Tailfin Pass, hoping the lunch rush was coming to a close. He knew from past experiences that it wasn't very wise for him to go up there when there were crowds of cars - all of the dirty looks, the whispers behind his back, all of these things made his experiences things he wanted to forget, but couldn't. The pairs of eyes that fell on him, the way they talked as if they knew him, all of it only served to fuel his temper.

The drive calmed him a little, allowed him to get his bearings and collect himself, although Sam's words still burned just as badly as they had when they had first been spoken. _So that's what he really thinks? _It aggravated him, but what aggravated him more was his irritation with Sam - because, if he really wanted to face facts, Chick knew that the words were true. And that didn't mean that Sam thought ill of him.

Before he could think too much about it, he came up on the Wheel Well. Only a few cars remained from the lunch hour, which relieved him - the fewer the cars that saw him, the less he'd have to think about all of this. He drove into the restaurant, glancing up at the television which was filled with the sound of some day time reality show. Chick ignored it as he parked in front of the bar, really only requesting a canister of fuel.

Chick was thankful for the quiet and the dull hum of the television as he glanced around. _McQueen's girlfriend did a nice job with this place... _He spent a few minutes looking around until his fuel was set in front of him. "Thanks," he said, taking a drink. _I can understand why McQueen set up the racing HQ here - nobody to bother him, and he probably has a lot of time to himself on the off-season. _

He continued with his lazy train of thought, his eyes resting on the television, although they had glazed over slightly as he wasn't absorbing anything he saw. It was numbing to have so much quiet time, but the numb was slowly becoming a more welcome feeling. He didn't think about all of the crap that was going on, he didn't _have to_. If for a few blissful moments, he had nothing to worry about.

His bliss was quickly shattered, by the pair of eyes that were now resting on him. "Ugh," he mumbled, snapping back into reality as his eyes snapped over to meet those of the car beside him. He was surprised to find that Lynda Weathers was the owner, her blue eyes curious, her grill curled down slightly in a frown. Chick risked a quick glance around - where was Strip? Nowhere to be found, as it seemed. The stock car cleared his windpipe. "Hello, Mrs. Weathers..." He tried to be polite - his problem was never with her, and that he could recognize.

She nodded to him, parking herself beside him. "Hello, Chick." Without missing a beat, she added, "I'm surprised to see you here." And she smiled.

Chick paused for a little while, waiting to feel the condescension pouring through that smile, but there wasn't any of it there. Just a genuine smile, which left him more than speechless. He wasn't sure what to say to her - whether or not to pick up on the casual remark, or simply nod and return to his drink.

The waiter approached, a forklift just a little rounder at the sides than McQueen's pittie, Chick noticed. Lynda turned him away without ordering anything. "I'm still waitin' for my husband and daughter."

_Oh yeah! _Chick remembered the scene he had witnessed down on Main Street. He wondered if he should say something about it, for the ostensible reason that Lynda looked more than a little concerned, but he knew that he just wanted some dirt on King and the girl. Lynda caught his eye for a moment, her soft frown deepening even further, as if she seemed to see through his outward facade.

She didn't mention it, though, if she did see through him. "So what brings you all the way out to Radiator Springs?"

Chick took another casual drink of his fuel. _Oh, the usual. The boss threatened my career as a racecar, so I had to come out and scout out Lightning's moves. No big deal, Mrs. Weathers. _He snorted quietly, shaking his hood at his own thoughts. He said, "I thought I needed a vacation."

"Wait until you're retired," Lynda remarked, her eyelids rising slightly. "Everyday seems like a vacation."

Chick nodded. _The old man must be bored all the time. _"It must be nice."

"It is." Her words were vague, as if something was bothering her.

"Is that a little disappointment I hear?" Chick was interested now - was the hubby down in the dumps? Or was life in the slow lane just not what Lynda was expecting?

Lynda shot the green Buick a look, which was stern like a mother's when she was chastising her child. "Not so much disappointment as frustration."

"Frustration?" Curiouser and curiouser.

"Hun," she started, shaking her hood. "It's nothin' you need to worry your handsome little hood over. I promise you, it won't make you feel any better."

Chick quieted down, effectively put in his place by his long-time rival's wife. She _had _seen through him, and he'd pushed a little too far forward. Should he apologize? He thought of Sam's words, which rang annoyingly inside his mind. "I didn't mean it like that," he tried, although he knew she knew that he didn't believe his own words. Lynda simply glanced at him, in a way that made him feel like a little boy. He sighed in exasperation, not wanting to seem like a total jerk.

Before he could say anything, Lynda stopped him with a tire, turning towards him. "Listen, I know you're still angry about what happened seven years ago," she began. Chick was beginning to think he had lost track of time - had it really been seven years? "And I know the whole world's angry, too. But you've got to let it go, boy. I know Strip has. You know, he would have forgiven you if you had come right out and apologized, and I don't know why you didn't." She leaned to one side slightly, looking him straight in the eye, but there was a certain softness that made her words sting less. "I thought better of you."

The stock car tried to hide the surprise, forcing himself to keep a straight face. She thought better of him? What was he supposed to say to that? His engine churned and suddenly the oil in front of him didn't seem so appealing anymore; it felt like glue sticking to the sides of tank.

Lynda reached over to nudge Chick with her tire, but he shied away, flinching back rather hard and almost bumping into a forklift behind him. Without another word, he pulled out of the Wheel Well and was back on the pavement, driving deeper into the wilderness that was Tailfin Pass.


	9. Hills and Valleys

Woo! Two chapters in a night. Hopefully I will have time to get another chapter written, or at least started, tomorrow after school. Comments, critique, constructive criticism, and any reviews are welcome! Enjoooy! :)

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Strip Weathers made sure he was at the Wheel Well before Sheriff, because Lynda would have a tractor if he didn't explain his plan quickly. He returned the stares of passing cars with smiles and friendly greetings like, "Afternoon!" By now, he was used to the glances he received and the excited whispers, which didn't faze him as much as they had in the past.

He pulled up to the Wheel Well, stopping short as a disgruntled Chick sped out from the restaurant. A frown crossed his grill slightly as he watched the car disappear around the bend that led into the shadows of the rock faces, before he simply shook his hood and drove in to meet Lynda. She was looking out the entrance, apparently after Chick, and when she spotted Strip, she sighed.

"Did somethin' happen?" Strip questioned, pulling up beside her.

"I think things are finally gettin' to him," Lynda replied, kissing her husband in greeting.

"After seven years, you'd think it would have happened sooner," King replied, his rust colored eyes concerned. His wife simply nodded, which he took as the cue to change the subject. "Well, he'll figure things out, I'm sure. Anyway." The Plymouth paused. How was he to go about breaking this to Lynda? He had to do it quickly. "So, you remember how we set up that little hunt for JR?"

"Mhmm."

Strip smiled at the waiter and sent him away without ordering anything, the momentary distraction eating away his time. "We're still waitin' for someone, thanks." He turned back to Lynda. "Well, I threw something in last minute, thinkin' it would make it a lil' more interesting."

Lynda looked at her husband cautiously. "Okay, go ahead."

"Now don't worry, JR's gonna make it up here in time for lunch, but-"

"Strip, what did you do?"

"What makes you think I did somethin'?"

"You're always doin' _somethin'_. I know you."

Strip sat back on his tires, hiding a slight smile as he quickly mustered up a brave expression. "I had the sheriff arrest JR as a kind of joke, so he's-"

"You did _what?_" Her voice went up a notch as she stared at him, completely unbelieving. "You didn't..."

"I did," he said quickly, trying to continue, "So she doesn't know the sheriff is bringing her up here, but it wasn't a real arrest or anythin', Lynda, so don't worry. Like I said, she's still gonna make it up here in time to have lunch with us."

Lynda inhaled and exhaled slowly, staring up at her husband with _the look_. Strip chuckled sheepishly, trying to deflect _the look_, but he knew he was going to be in trouble later. He looked past her, wishing that the sheriff would hurry up and pull into the Wheel Well. He cleared his windpipe, gazing back down at her, and she simply shook her hood.

"We're going to talk about this later, Strip Weathers," Lynda said sternly, casting her eyes to the entrance of the restaurant just in time to see the sheriff pulling up and dropping off Georgia. She looked a little shaken, but for the most part surprise tainted her expression. She paused outside, exchanging a few words with Sheriff, who had a smile on his grill. Neither of the Weathers couple could hear what they were saying, although they guessed at it when relief washed over their daughter's countenance.

Lynda shot her husband a glance that said, 'You're not squirming your way out of this one.' Then she drove over to meet Georgia, who was driving into the Wheel Well restaurant. "It's so good to see you, sugar," Lynda greeted, her smile stretching all the way across her grill. Her eyes softened as she looked at her daughter, who she couldn't believe was all grown up, right before her eyes. "It means a lot that you came out all this way to see us." She nuzzled her daughter affectionately.

Georgia's smile radiated as she parked in front of her mother. "It's great to see you, too, Mama." Mama. The word sounded so foreign, but it rolled off her tongue and felt right when she said it. It had been so long since she had spoken to her mother in person. Lynda looked a lot older now, yet one thing Georgia noticed was that her eyes hadn't lost their shine. They were still as youthful and as pretty as she remembered them from her childhood.

Lynda paused a moment to take it in, before reversing to let Georgia get past to see Strip. The baby blue Plymouth sat back on his tires, his smile slighter and less pronounced than his wife's, but his eyes said it all. Georgia drove up to him, a freight train of emotions running through her mind. How many times had she driven up to her father with excitement? With disappointment and disgrace? So many. She had lost count. She felt the fresh emotions stirring in her engine, the happiness, the excitement, the disappointment, and most of all, the fear that he would be disappointed in her.

That had always been her biggest fear, even into adulthood. And it had been so, so long since she had seen him last, that she couldn't keep from wondering if he was proud of her. After all, she thought, things hadn't exactly gone as planned. Her dreams had burned out a long time ago, and she had resigned herself to the same routine, the same life she had lived throughout.

Her thoughts flashed behind her eyes, the worrisome feelings taking hold, despite her hardest attempts to shoo them away. _What's wrong with me? I'm not a child anymore; it's silly to think that my own father won't be proud of me... _But something inside her quivered like a child, and she thought, _What's he got to be proud of? _Georgia brushed the thoughts aside, like she always had, and smiled.

Strip saw something hiding in the rusty tones of his daughter's eyes, although he held his tongue. He didn't know what to say to her anyway - she was so much older now, and she had changed so much. He was left speechless, his engine melted at the sight of his little girl all grown up. It reminded him that he was getting old, too, but his years were different than hers.

Georgia parked in front of Strip and stopped, her voice caught for a second. Suddenly the fear was gone, and all she felt was a massive sense of calm, as if her fears really were silly and made no sense. Her smile widened, became sincere, and her eyes softened as she looked up at her father. "Papa," she greeted, feeling a lot like a child. She was taken aback when an adult's voice filled the air - her voice - and not the voice she had spoken with as a young girl.

Strip chuckled, shaking his hood. "There's one thing that hasn't changed, JR," he remarked, his own smile widening.

Lynda sighed, driving up to park beside her husband, happy to see her little family reunited.

* * *

The three had a nice lunch, which they spent catching up. Georgia told them about the house, which was beginning to show how many years of life had been put into it. The walls were sturdy, but the panels on the outside were faded, and the windows were sun-kissed to the point that they had a film of golden tainting the shade of the glass. Nothing had lost value - it had all grown older. The sun still poured soft, buttery rays down on the house every morning, and gray clouds still complemented the neighborhood and the trees in autumn.

She told them about her job, which was work that consisted of helping manage the local race track. She had grown up around and inside the racing world, so it was natural for her to be involved in it all still. It kept her engaged and took care of everything she needed, so it was good.

Her parents talked about retirement, living in Radiator Springs, and how every day was different and there was never a dull moment. Georgia was happy that they were happy; it eased her mind to know that they were safe and sound in Radiator Springs. Strip reminisced on his career and living in the town allowed him to be up close to the racing world without having to take time away from the family and friends.

"I saw Chick Hicks' trailer earlier," Georgia remarked, looking between her parents as they were finishing up. "His HQ isn't here, is it?"

"Nah," Strip said, shaking his hood. "Who knows why he's out here? Probably to scout out McQueen's moves. He's done it before."

"Wouldn't surprise you?" she questioned, an eyelid rising. She couldn't keep the feeling of curiosity down - curiosity about Chick.

"Nope."

"Huh. I ran into him earlier. He was a little disgruntled."

King settled on his tires, his countenance calm. "Somethin's come down in Chick, like he's strugglin' to make his peace."

This struck Georgia. _To make his peace? Maybe he feels bad about the wreck... But he doesn't have to be rude to everyone. He doesn't have to act the way he does. _She frowned, casting her eyes to the floor thoughtfully. _He must be all alone. That must be awful. Chrysler, that must be awful. _She shook her hood, sighing slightly. "Tex told me that Chick could have been the new face of Dinoco had he not screwed himself up the way he did."

Strip nodded vehemently, his voice alone agreeing with the statement. "Chick was good at what he did. I remember that boy's first race - he came in second place, and everybody - and I mean everybody - was talkin' about him. Cars had me scared silly. That boy gave me some great competition, and I sure wanted him to come talk to me after my last race. I hated leavin' things the way they were left."

Lynda nodded. "Somethin's got that boy down, sugar. And there ain't anybody there to help him up."

Georgia's engine twisted under her hood. "You think he'll get through it?"

"I think so," Strip said after a while. "Everybody has ups and downs. Sometimes there are cars who have more than their fair share of downs. Think about hills and valleys, JR. Remember what I told you when you were a lil' girl?"

"Yes. Hills are the ups and valleys are the downs, and sometimes some cars spend more time in the valley than they do on top of the hill," Georgia replied, nodding. "You think he's spent more time in the valley?" The thought rang in her ears, and she paused, looking down again.

"I think so," Lynda confirmed. "But I think he's deep in the valley now."


	10. Implications?

Thanks to MereMcQueen314 for the reviews! :) This chapter turned out a little bit differently than I expected, but I think it went the way it needed to. I hope all of the readers enjoy this chapter! R&R is always greatly appreciated.

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_Georgia ducked away from the crowd of cars, glancing back just once to make sure that no one was looking her way. Satisfied that no one was, she quickly made her escape, driving down to a more deserted area of the stadium, where they were serving refreshments. She drove towards the line of tables which were littered with perfectly aligned cans of oil, stopping short to wait for the car in front of her. _

_The stock car reversed rather quickly, catching her off guard as he almost bumped into her. "I'm sorry!" she started quickly, backing up a bit to give him space. _

_"No, it's my fault," he apologized, looking her over. He must have noticed the paint job, which clearly gave away who she rooted for at every race. _

_As she squeezed past him, she said, "Chick Hicks, right?" _

_"Yeah." She noticed that his voice was flat. He was a young racer - at least young compared to her father - and he was only a little older than she was. _

_"I'm Georgia," she introduced. "You raced really well out there." _

_"Well, thanks, Georgia," Chick answered, something sounding a little like surprise catching in his voice. But there was something else layering in his voice, something like frustration? Georgia glanced at him as she took a sip of her oil, one eyelid rising. She didn't hesitate long before she spoke. _

_"Not as good as winning though, right? I know how that goes..." She shook her hood, but she smiled at him. "Strip is definitely goin' to be hard to beat." She nodded towards him, though, admiration in her smile and her gesture. "But you're good - scary good. I was worried you _were _going to beat him there for a while!" She watched as Chick took a swig off of his drink, his dark brown eyes measuring her, in a way. Thoughts ran through his mind, but she couldn't tell what they were. _

_"You're a King fan, then? I figured as much by the paint job." _

_"Oh, well, yeah, of course I'm a fan of The King. He_ is _my dad," she said quickly. She glanced away, as if she was trying to keep out of sight of someone. _

_Chick almost choked on his fuel. "What?" He stared at her, a look of shock on his face, which caused her breath to catch, something she hoped he hadn't noticed. 'Most people don't react like that. Usually it's pretty obvious...' She gazed him a moment, about to open her mouth to say something, but her mother's voice rang out through the stale stadium air. _

_"Georgia Rian! Why did you drive off like that?" _

_She looked back to Chick. "I'm sorry - my mama's goin' to have a tractor if I don't get back to her. It was really nice to meet you, Chick," she told him, her words rushed, but her voice was sincere. 'I hope I can talk to you again. You seem like you're nice enough.' "You raced well, so don't beat up on yourself so much. Good luck!" And she turned and drove off, calling, "I'm comin'!" _

* * *

For the next few days that followed, Georgia spent her time getting acquainted with the town. She met with her parents at Flo's each morning for breakfast, wandered around taking tours and seeing the sights, driving out to Ornament Valley, watching the Rust Bucket race, hunkering down a few nights in her parent's house. It was nice and reminded her a lot of the old house.

About a week passed in this fashion, and she found that she enjoyed spending the greater part of her time in Ornament Valley. Late one afternoon she found herself perched at the old gas station, which was mostly used as a spot for cars to loiter. Boxes were scattered here and there, and trucks mulled around speaking in heavy Northern accents, talking about fixing the station up a bit and opening up there.

"We could make a lot of money off of this place," a navy blue Topkick commented to his friend. "There are a lot of cars out here and there are those Rust Bucket races that they hold every week. It would be a great opportunity for us."

His friend, a yellow Ford, nodded his hood. "Yeah yeah, I know what you're saying. And since this is McQueen's racing HQ, a lotta cars have been coming out here. Ornament Valley is going to get bigger, so we might as well capitalize on it." He pushed a few boxes out of the way, glancing over at the pumps that were old and covered in rust and dust. "We could clean this place up."

Georgia listened in nonchalantly, digging her tire into the dust. The gritty substance stuck in her tires, and the texture of it engaged her as her mind wandered leisurely. The sun was hot and high in the sky, setting the stage for the coming racing season. Speaking of which - the Topkick was talking about that now. "You know, the racing season is about to start back up. That's definitely going to attract some attention from the crowds."

The Ford nodded enthusiastically as they mulled around pushing crates. "Yeah, and the King and his wife live out here. I've seen Chick Hicks out here, too, and with the World Grand Prix crowd out here to visit... We would have a lot of business if Ornament Valley expanded like it looks like it will."

The baby blue car turned her eyes towards them, narrowing them slightly as she listened more intently to their conversation.

The Topkick added, "Yeah. Not sure how much Hicks is going to do for business, though. It might not be such a great thing to have him out here."

"I dunno, I mean... There are still probably some diehard fans leftover. You never really know."

"Whatever. Don't think Hicks is going to do us any good. He's trouble, you know. I bet he's out here for just that - to start trouble."

"Yeah. I mean, I don't doubt the whole trouble thing. He's probably out here to screw with Lightning."

"Wouldn't surprise me much. But that isn't bad strategy, you gotta admit." The Topkick disappeared inside the small building for a moment, before reappearing. "I mean, think about it. He screws with Lightning, who might come into the season a little rusty anyway because of his run in the World Grand Prix, ya know with different tracks and all. So he screws with Lightning, and bam, he actually might legitimately win a race."

"Hey!" A sharp, strident voice broke up their conversation, causing Georgia to roll back slightly. She watched as Chick appeared, driving over to the Topkick and the Ford, who shared glances with each other. "I have legitimately won races before."

"Oh yeah? Name one," the Topkick challenged, only to swiftly receive a punch in the side from the Ford.

Chick's eyes narrowed threateningly, although Georgia was convinced that he wouldn't do anything. He was, for the most part, all talk and no drive. But this time, he was no talk and no drive, just the stare, which was cold and hard. She watched with curiosity, wondering how this would come to a conclusion, and if Chick or either of the two trucks would say anymore.

The Topkick simply took his friend's advice and backed off, disappearing inside the building, followed by his now nervous looking friend. Just as quickly as things had heated up, they had cooled back down, and the green stock car was left on the faded, half-sand-buried tiles of the old gas station.

Georgia pulled out of her hidden spot and approached Chick, whose eyes widened slightly at her sudden appearance.

"What do you want?"

"Have you legitimately won any races?" She parked in front of him, settling on one side of her tires, a lot like Strip used to do.

"Don't do that," Chick said, avoiding her question.

"Don't do what? Ask you questions?"

"No. Don't lean on your side like that."

"Why?" She straightened slightly, a frown tipping her grill downward. "What's wrong with it?"

Chick scoffed. "Just cut it out. You're starting to look like him, too."

"I've always looked like him."

"Well don't start acting like him, Weathers."

"I thought we were on a first name basis," Georgia replied, leaning on one side of her tires just to getting under Chick's metal sheeting.

"When did you ever get an idea like that?"

"You've called me Georgia before."

"Like, what? Ten years ago? How long ago has it been? And you cars have lost your mind. It's only been like five years since the wreck. Not seven," Chick snorted, sounding sure of himself, but by the way the car in front of him looked at him, he had the sneaking suspicion that he was the one who had lost his mind.

Georgia gazed at him a while, her even eyes unnerving Chick. He didn't like the way she looked at him, and the longer she paused to measure him up as he had seemingly measured her up all those years ago, the more and more the stock car felt uncomfortable in the silence. After a while, she finally spoke. "You know, it's been seven years since the wreck. You just don't realize it, do you?"

Chick ground his teeth, pushing aside the discomfort to lock gazes with her. Suddenly a frown crossed her grill again, thoughts passing behind her eyes, thoughts he couldn't dissect and wasn't sure if he wanted to. Georgia, on the other hand, found herself wanting to know more with each passing second. She didn't remember his eyes to be so cold. The very first time they met replayed in her mind, and she couldn't think of a moment of their short conversation in which his eyes had been so unforgiving and bitter.

The wit was gone, and she simply stared at him, confused. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?" She shook her hood.

"I don't know, with that expression... Stop. See you're doing it now, stop, cut it out! Gah, all of you Weathers cars are crazy!" Chick smacked his tire against the ground, raising a small cloud of dust. Georgia felt like she should have said something to counter him, yet nothing came to mind, and she simply stood in her spot, watching him with the same curiosity and confusion as before.

An awkward silence ensued. It lasted for a few minutes, which ticked by slowly, ever so slowly.

Until Georgia cleared her throat. "Well, considering that my father set it up for me to be...fakely?...arrested, I guess we are kind of slightly insane..."

Chick nodded, not saying anything. He wasn't quite sure what to say, really.

So another awkward silence ensued.

"Well, I don't have time to stay here and go back and forth with you, so." Chick sounded matter-of-fact.

"Neither do I, so you know." _Not that I've got some important engagement. I don't really think you do either... _

"Good then," Chick retorted rather quickly. "I wouldn't want to waste your precious time."

"I'll be wasting it on my own, thank you," Georgia replied, trying to sound as matter-of-fact as he had.

Chick snorted, covering up an inward chuckle. _I have to waste my own time, apparently. Lightning hasn't shown his pretty fender on the practice track at all. _"I have important things to tend to, you know, being a racer and all. Gotta check out the competition, not that Lightning will pose a threat this season or whatever." The 'or whatever' was a little flakey, and sounded unsure even to Chick himself.

But Georgia's eyelids rose nonetheless as she nodded her hood. "Confident, I see. Very impressive."

The stock car's eyes narrowed for a moment. _Sarcasm, I see. Well then. _"Yeah yeah - you know I don't even need confidence."

"And why is that?"

"I'm sure Lightning is going to be off game this season." _So if it's really been seven years... Seven years have got to give somewhere. He's got to hit his peak sometime, right? Right. _"I mean, he's going to make mistakes, and that's where I'm going to storm in and take the lead. And legitimately win some races."

Georgia shook her hood, hiding a slight smile. "Don't get too cocky."

"Me, cocky? Please."

Chick and Georgia both laughed a little, but he caught himself and he stopped, causing her to stop quite abruptly. Another silence followed, but Georgia broke it again, nodding towards Chick. "Well, it was nice to see you again. Don't let those guys get under your sheeting, by the way. They're just interested in fixing the gas station up, nothing too big."

"Mm. Thanks for the advice."

She shrugged her tires loosely. "That wasn't really advice. Well, okay, it was. But I'll leave you with something to think about."

"And that would be?"

"Don't hole yourself up out here. Trust me, it'll drive you crazy - if you aren't already crazy. You should come into town every once in a little while. There are some folks who would be more than happy to see you at Flo's for a quart of oil," she remarked, reversing. She sent him one last glance, before driving away, leaving him with her words and whatever implications might have been there.

"Wait, what?" Chick stayed there a while, wondering what the Weathers girl meant by that.


	11. Fresh Starts

It's been FOREVER since I've updated this, but here I finally have chapter eleven. Thank you to ALL of my wonderful, wonderful readers and reviewers! I appreciate all of your time in reading this and all of your reviews. Hopefully, you shall enjoy this chapter! :)

* * *

Georgia pushed around the canister of oil absentmindedly, thinking about her earlier encounter with Chick. She hid from the bright lights of the cafe, not really wanting to bring attention to herself when she was so hung up like this. Speaking of, why was she so hung up on him like this? He'd never bothered her before, at least not until Strip's last race, and after that she'd resented him as much as everyone else had, if not more.

But now it all seemed stupid, for her to resent him like that. It seemed like some blind sort of thing, that she had only felt that way because she was obligated to and that she jumped to conclusions like everybody else. That got under her metal sheeting something fierce, and it stirred around in her mind as she turned everything she thought she knew about Chick over.

Georgia thought about Strip's approach to all of this. He didn't resent Chick - hadn't at all, not even right after. All he wanted was to speak with the stock car, to work this through. It wasn't even his responsibility to do that, but he wanted to. And it continuously made her feel like she had been blind all this time to who Chick really was. She had to admit to herself, although reluctantly, that she wasn't angry anymore.

She felt some kind of relief, not to be holding onto that anymore, but her mind was still preoccupied.

"Hey. Weathers, right?" A voice broke her trance.

"Hm? I mean, yeah, that's me." She turned to find a big rig parked next to her, with the familiar hTB logo painted on his side. "You're Chick's driver?"

"Yes ma'am. Although I do have a name," he replied.

Georgia shook her hood. "Sorry man. I'm Georgia, by the way. You are?"

"Sam. It's nice to meet you, Georgia," he commented as Mia drove over. He placed his order before he continued to speak. "I wanted to talk to you about Chick, if you don't mind. I'm not sure if he's a touchy subject because of the wreck..."

"No, no, it's fine. That was a long time ago, and my reservations towards him are gone. What is it about him that you want to talk about...?"

"Well, he's been having a rough time lately. I mean, he's always been hard on himself, and I think now that everyone else is hard on him, too, it's gotten to him. Something's come down in him, and I don't think I can help him anymore," Sam said, sounding worried. His words rang in her mind - _something's come down in him. _Her father said the same thing.

"What do you think it is?" Georgia asked.

Sam paused a moment. "You know, I'm not really sure. But I know that something has."

"So...?"

"Well, I know you've had a few run-ins with him in the past week or two, and every time he comes back he's out of sorts and doesn't really seem so angry. He tries to be angry, believe me, he does, but I've seen it in his expression. And I get the impression that you're not as awful to him as some other cars can be," Sam explained. "It really throws him off."

Georgia looked up at Sam with an eyelid raised. "Does it now?" _Can't say it doesn't throw me for a loop, either. _"I dunno, Sam. I saw him earlier today, and I told him not to hole himself up out in Ornament Valley, but I don't know if he took my words to heart or not."

"He came back into town a little while ago - which is why I decided to talk to you - and I haven't seen him since. He's probably around here, somewhere," Sam replied.

"You think I should find him?"

"I wasn't going to suggest that exactly, but if you'd like to, it'd be fine by me."

"What were you gonna suggest?"

Sam shrugged his tires. "I was going to suggest that you be the car that doesn't put him out right away. As silly as it sounds, he just needs somebody to prove him wrong."

"And I can do that?"

"I'd like it if you'd try. I worry about him. He's my friend, Georgia. We've been partners for years now and to see him go downhill like this really rubs me the wrong way. I've tried to do what I can but I can't keep doing this on my own."

"... All right, I guess I see what you're saying. I don't know what I can do for him, but you're probably right, that it's worth a try. He was really good at racing, and he seemed like he wasn't such a bad guy. Of course we were both kids, if I think about it," Georgia remarked with a sigh. She looked up at Sam. "I'll try to be a friend to him, at least."

Sam smiled. "Thank you, Georgia. It means a lot to me that you would help out like that."

"It's all right. I think he deserves better than this crap, anyway. I know how he feels."

* * *

Georgia spent her evening at the Wheel Well. The tables overlooking the valley provided a nice view, and the lights were perfect - not too harsh, but not too dark, which made her comfortable and gave her time to think. All of this business with Chick and just the rush that came with visiting her parents had distracted her from the real reason why she was here in Radiator Springs.

To see if she would move here.

She closed her eyes and thought of home, with the faded outer walls and the warm, buttery sunshine pouring through the window in the morning. The thought of this warmth made her smile, and for a moment she missed that little piece of forever. It and her parents were the only steady things in her life. She thought of the smell of the road in front of the house during the summer months, and thought of the old, deserted track.

The track. She opened her eyes, breaking from her reverie to look out over the valley. The track was the reality check for her. This view of the valley was the reality check for her. Where was she going with her life? Suddenly, the thought of going home to a house that was empty didn't seem so appealing anymore. The feeling in her tank grew cold.

She turned her eyes away from the valley to observe the cars, to forget about what she just remembered. Some sense of denial overcame her as she watched the other cars mull around, some leaving, and some entering. Waiters took cars to their tables, waitresses fetched drinks and food. It helped dull her senses a little, and she sipped on her drink nonchalantly.

Just when she thought she had everything settled for a moment, a flash of green appeared and she had to do a double take. Chick had pulled into the vicinity of the restaurant, and he seemed like he was waiting for someone, but all the waiters were off and there was no one else but him idling there. Georgia watched him for a minute, until he turned to leave, to which she called out to him, something that she did without really thinking about it.

"Chick!"

He, and a few other cars, turned to look at her, and she almost shrank back from embarrassment. She cleared her throat and gestured to Chick with a tire, despite the looks she was getting from a few people. Most were surprised, although she caught a few glowers from here and there.

The green stock car stared at her as if she was insane. _She's crazy. Doing this kind of thing in public - what is she thinking? _He was a little embarrassed himself but for whatever reason, he decided to drive over to her table and park there - which convinced him that he was insane, too.

"How do you ignore this crap?" Chick muttered, a little unnerved by the stares the pair was receiving.

"What crap?"

"Everybody is staring! How does that not piss you off?"

"If I ignore it, they'll stop staring," she replied, looking at him pointedly. "Besides, there shouldn't be any shame in having dinner with...a friend." She had to find the right words, and then get them out, because this was all very odd. Never in her life did she imagine that she would be in the same restaurant, at the same table, as Chick Hicks.

Chick stared at her for a second. _What...? _

She read his expression. "Okay, this is just stupid. Chick, let's be totally honest here. Can you do that for once?"

"Oh haha, very funny, Weathers. Yes, I can be honest. What do you want?"

"I'm gonna go ahead and put my cards on the table: As much as you might think otherwise, I'm not hung up on the wreck anymore. And neither is Strip. Whatever grudge you think I have against you, or whatever idea you have that I'm exactly like my father, because I know that's what you think of me, is wrong. I've hated you in the past for what you did but that's over now. It is what it is - it's the past." She sounded so sure, as if she wanted him to understand what she was saying. "I've failed in my life. Just like you. And I am not afraid to admit that, because it's true." She stung herself with her own words and had to pause for a moment to regain her train of thought. "You and I are a lot alike. So why are you still my enemy?"

Chick didn't even have to think. "Why should you be any different than anybody else? No one's cut me any slack so why should I do the same for you? You're the one car that I would expect to hate me, and you should just leave it that way. Don't change things now."

"What about Sam?"

"What?"

"What about Sam? He cuts you slack. Hell, he came to me today because he's actually worried about you. So what about him?"

"How did Sam get brought into this? That's how all of the Weathers are, they change the subject and-"

"You pass judgment but don't even really know me. And I can't say I haven't done the same to you, because I have, but I'm willing to change that so that for the rest of your life you're not completely fricking miserable. Did you even stop to think that maybe I'm like Sam? That maybe I don't care about what you did, that I just want to help you?"

"That's exactly why I don't want your help. It's all just pity."

"And Sam's is pity, too, right?"

"No!"

"Then what makes you think that I pity you?" Georgia asked.

"Because you're just like everybody else!"

"But how do you know that?"

"Has anybody ever told you that you are extremely _annoying_?"

"Has anybody ever told you that you're stubborn?"

"_I'm _stubborn?"

"Yes." Georgia glared across the table. "I'm trying to work this out with you..."

"There's nothing to work out! I don't even know you!"

"But you don't like me."

"Exactly."

Georgia sighed. "Listen... I'm not going to fight with you. I don't know you, and you don't know me, but I'd be more than willing to say that you and I are exactly alike, once you get right down to it." Chick tried to interrupt but she cut him off. "I know that you don't really want to hear this crap from me - I don't blame you. But everything you say makes me wonder that if my last name wasn't Weathers, maybe you'd give me a chance."

"You're not going to let that go, are you?"

"You're wrong," she said matter-of-factly, avoiding his question. "About me."

Chick snorted. "You're the child of Dinoco. Everybody knows that's what you were born for, is to become the new racer for Dinoco."

"Well then everybody is either wrong or either I'm a failure."

"Exactly, which is why - wait, what?" Chick stopped short. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not taking over Dinoco," she said, shaking her hood with a snort. "Are you kidding me? Have I ever raced in Piston Cup races? In regular seasonal races? No. I haven't. That's what Strip intended for me to do, but it never happened." She sat back on her tires, having said enough to sufficiently quiet herself. Chick didn't say anything at first, either.

"Then why are you here?" he finally asked.

"Because Lynda wants me to move out here."

Chick was silent for another little while. He hated, _hated _having to admit that he was wrong. But if what the Weathers girl was saying was really true, than he was wrong, and had just made a fool of himself in front of her and a few people who were probably eavesdropping. He glanced up at her, meeting her gaze, and it was enough for him to know that this wasn't a lie.

"Fine... So..." _Ugh. _"As much as this pains me," he muttered, "why don't you and I... start over."

Georgia was surprised but incredibly relieved at the same time. "I think that would probably be a good idea..."

He huffed out a heavy sigh, feeling rather apprehensive. "Whatever ideas you have about me-"

"Have been thrown out the window. If we're starting over, it's going to be a fresh start. No grudges."

"No misjudgments?"

"No misjudgments," she reassured him. "On my part or yours."

"All right," Chick agreed. "All right, Georgia."

* * *

Feel free to leave comments, questions, suggestions, or any kind of review! I read them all.

~Peaches


	12. Pride

Okay, so I'm exhausted, in some pain, and have school tomorrow, so I'm gonna post this without double-checking my errors or anything... So my apologies in advance. Kind of a short chapter anyway, but it does what I need to do and fills time as well. I would like to thank my wonderful readers and reviewers again! Your reviews make writing this seem more worthwhile! I really love the feedback, it helps me out a lot, as well. :) Enjoy!

* * *

_Georgia passed a few familiar faces on the way down to the practice track. _

_"Hey, Georgia!" one of her friends called out. She braked and looked over at the car, watching as she drove up to meet her. "Where are you going? You should stay out here and play ball with us." She nudged the ball towards the powder blue car with her tire, smiling. Georgia's tank turned as she thought about skipping practice today to hang out with the other kids. It had been a long while since she'd actually gotten to see them. _

_"I dunno, Charlotte," Georgia replied apprehensively. _

_"Aw, c'mon George," another car teased, gesturing with his tire. "Why don't you cut practice for a day?" _

_"Yeah," Charlotte agreed. "You practice every day, Georgia. Just skip it today. Your dad won't get upset! He never gets upset." _

_"Char, I can't. I gotta practice... I... It's gotta be perfect." _

_Charlotte opened her mouth to say something, but the boy stopped her. "Forget about it, Char. She doesn't care about us anymore, anyway." _

_Something boiled under Georgia's hood as she looked past her friend, but she couldn't say anything. How could she prove him wrong? What was she supposed to say? Instead she returned her eyes to Charlotte, her grill pursed as she tried to hide her emotion. Charlotte's green eyes reflected so much disappointment, as if she was waiting for Georgia to prove him wrong, for her friend to skip practice for one day. _

_But Georgia didn't say a word. _

_Charlotte reversed, turned her back on her friend, and drove back over to the others. It was the last time Georgia ever spoke to Charlotte, her best friend. _

* * *

Georgia woke up with a start, her engine racing as she tried to ger her bearings. It was the type of dream that engages you so much that when you wake up, a feeling of immediate relief washes over you. Georgia exhaled slowly, closing her eyes for a moment as she caught her breath, before opening one eye to peer out the window.

The blinds were cracked a bit, allowing a little bit of light to flood in, but it was enough. The powder blue car took another deep breath as she realized it was morning, and when her tank churned slightly, she felt the first pangs of thirst.

She left the cone shortly thereafter, deciding to head over to Flo's for some oil and breakfast.

King greeted her when she arrived. "Mornin', darlin'."

"Morning," she replied, still half caught in the throes of sleep. "Where's Mama?"

"She's with Flo. They decided to have a girl's day or whatever," he answered, shrugging his tires. "Jus' you and me today."

"What about Tex?" Georgia asked as Tia approached, taking her order for a hot quart of oil.

"The first race of the season is today, so he left a little while ago," Strip told her.

"First race of the season?" Georgia practically had a tractor. "I must have lost track of time... So McQueen and Chick are gone then, huh?" She thought back to the previous night, and the clean slate between her and the Buick. Some part of her hoped that he was coming back after this race, because she wanted to have a chance to really get to know him.

"Mhmm."

"When d'you think they'll be back?" She tried to keep the question casual.

"Probably by tomorrow mornin'. If Chick even comes back, of course."

Her tank dropped at the thought, but she certainly didn't say anything. "Well, it'll be quiet until then, that's for sure."

"You mean _boring_."

"... Yeah. Probably."

Of course, leaving The King and his daughter to their own devices should have resulted in mass explosions, but thank Chrysler Georgia had some of her mother's oil in her pipes, or else the results would have involved explosions. The pair spent the day goofing off, messing around with the townsfolk and testing out Fillmore's organic oil to the point that the Sheriff had to chase them down a few times.

Strip took to the older pavement that led out to the old dirt roads, and he and Georgia found a spot to take a break and talk for a little while.

"So is that old practice track still out there?"

Georgia looked over at her father. "Yeah, it's still there. Nobody uses it anymore, but it's there."

"I'm sure the neighborhood's changed a lot since we've been gone," Strip commented.

"Yeah. All the old kids that used to live there moved out and their parents did, too. The neighbors are okay, I guess. I only see them every once in a while."

"Nobody that you know is left?"

"Nah. Well," Georgia paused. "Charlotte's family still lives there. She doesn't - last I heard from her brother, she moved up to New York to get a job as a doctor or a lawyer, I can't remember which."

Strip had to think for a second to remember who Charlotte was. "The Chevy?"

"Yeah. The yellow one."

He nodded. "What ever happened to her? I mean, before she moved out."

"We stopped talking," the daughter replied, shrugging. She knew why, of course. She remembered stuff like that.

"How come? I thought you two were glued at the hubcaps."

Georgia smiled and shook her hood. "We were, but I mean, I guess she just played ball all the time, and I practiced... So we stopped talking."

There was a long pause on her father's part, before she felt King nudge her tire. "I'm sorry, JR. I didn't mean to push you so hard when you were a kid."

"No!" She shook her hood again, looking over to see genuine regret in her father's eyes. "No, no. It's all right Daddy, don't apologize. You never pushed me too hard, I was always pushin' myself. If anything, it's my fault."

He rolled his eyes. "Why do you always do that?"

"Do what?"

"Take the blame for it. I know I pushed you too hard," he said to her. She listened without speaking, unable to find any words. "I could see it, but you were always willing to try and I guess I took advantage of that. Sometimes I wonder if I had just let it go, maybe things would be different now."

"What do you mean?"

Strip sighed. "Like maybe you wouldn't still be livin' in that house. You're smart, JR, you coulda gone off to school like Charlotte, and done anythin' that you wanted to do. When you put your mind down to somethin', you got it figured out. I'm proud of you for pullin' through all the practices that you did and never lettin' us down. But baby you coulda done somethin' different, I know it."

Georgia wasn't sure if she had the words - or the voice, at least - to answer him. She waited a little while before reaching out to nudge her father's tire.

"Everything happens for a reason."

"You got that from your mama." When Georgia looked at him funny, he shook his hood. "She said that a lot to me when I was still racin'."

"Never been words truer than those."

Strip cracked a smile and shook his hood again. He had always been proud of Georgia, but it was times like these when he remembered why he had always been.


	13. Pleasantly Surprised

Okay, so I really would like to thank my lovely readers and reviewers. MrsChickHicks, thanks a lot for your comments! I like the feedback you give me on Georgia's and Chick's characters. I put a lot of effort into writing characters so it means a lot when I see reviews like yours! Mere, thanks a bunch for your wonderful reviews and your concern as well! It was just a little pain, easily solved with some Motrin, but thank you. CarsCars2Fanatic, I was like, "D'aww!" when you said that this was one of your favorite stories. I love seeing the reviews, they really make writing this even more fun than it already is. So to all the readers and reviewers, I hope that you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

Chick listened to the dismal hum of the road beneath the trailer's tires, replaying the race over and over again in his mind, every twist and turn and the sting of McQueen's win sweeping over him as if the feelings were still fresh. And to rub salt in his wounds, he hadn't even managed to place second. Some kid, Sage VanDerSpin, beat him to second.

It was like McQueen's rookie year, all over again, and it made him wonder if he was going to relive that nightmarish season. He opened his dark brown eyes, allowing them to adjust to the darkness of the trailer. The window allowed him to see the lights on the side of the highway and the occasional passing car, but he continued to think about the race.

"You should get some rest," Sam said through the intercom-style system in the front of the trailer.

Chick opened his mouth but abruptly closed it, shaking his hood. "You're probably right." Another dash of salt in his wounds: Malone had threatened him again. He replayed the conversation in his head, which wasn't even a conversation, really - it was Malone telling him that if he didn't get his act together and get on McQueen's tail, he wouldn't have a sponsor next season.

And that would be it for him. There wouldn't be anything for him, which was a scary thought. Chick sighed, frustration seeping out as he tried to keep a lid on it all. He really need to stop focusing on all this other crap and start paying attention to Lightning McQueen. He was supposed to be in Radiator Springs to scout his moves, and so far, all he had done was fool around and allow himself to be distracted by the Weathers' girl.

Georgia. He dwelled on that subject for a little while, wondering if she had watched the race (and hoping that she hadn't), the sneaky thought that she wasn't such a bad distraction after all causing him to shake his hood and ask himself what he was thinking. _That race must've screwed with my hood. _

"Just get some rest." Sam's voice broke him from his train of thought. "Malone wants you to scout some of McQueen's moves, so you'll have to find ways to do that."

"Mm." Chick wasn't all that interested in pleasing Malone. _I should do something for myself. This whole racing thing is my passion, not something that Malone can just exploit like that. _"I haven't seen McQueen out on the practice track at all. I haven't seen him at all, period. I've seen the old man more than I've seen the rookie." The rookie that wasn't really a rookie anymore.

"Well," Sam began, his voice hesitant, as if he was treading on thin ice. "Why don't you ask the old man for some pointers?"

"Nope, no, no, completely out of the question," Chick replied quickly, putting his tire down on the trailer floor. "I don't need his advice anyway."

Sam shut his mouth, but he knew that sooner or later, especially with Georgia around, Chick would be forced to speak to The King.

"How much longer until we get back to that hillbilly hole? I'm freaking exhausted and I haven't eaten since before the race," Chick remarked, making quick work of changing the subject.

"Shouldn't be too much longer."

"Cool." Chick turned to look out the window, feeling his tank churning and turning over as they turned off the highway and made their way to Route 66. He, not wanting to think about the race, or Malone, or any of that crap, allowed his mind to drift, even as sleep evaded him.

* * *

Georgia cast her eyes across all of the bumper stickers in Lizzie's knick-knack shop. They were plastered with clever little sayings like, "Nice Butte" amongst others. She took her time casually admiring all of the things in the shop as the old model T dozed off behind her desk. The powder blue car had spent the day with Strip, and then when her mother returned, her parents went out on a little dinner date. She had always admired her parents' relationship and how long it had lasted and how happy they were.

"I want that someday, too," she said aloud, to no one in particular, but it woke Lizzie up.

"What? What?" Her voice cracked a little as she looked over at Georgia. With her shaky voice she asked, "Did you say something?"

Georgia smiled and shook her hood. "No, just talkin' to myself."

"Oh. Well if you keep talkin' to yourself, you'll go crazy." And with that, she dozed back off into her sleep as if nothing had happened at all.

Georgia stayed on in the shop, listening to the dull hum of the television in the background. It was an old thing that hardly worked and had a somewhat static-y picture, but it served its purpose. Something about the race was on, so as she browsed she listened a little more closely.

"Lightning McQueen with another victory today as the racing season begins. But it was no surprise really," some news anchor/reporter (Elliot was his name?) commented. "The superstar racer has been on a role since the World Grand Prix and is continuing to blow fans and critics alike away. But what everybody's talking about is that Sage VanDerSpin, beating out Chick Hicks to take second place!"

Georgia perked up, turning around to watch now as Elliot went on.

"Sources say that Dinoco's owner is talking with VanDerSpin about possibly signing a contract! Dinoco may have found its long-awaited new racer."

Georgia shook her hood and turned around. "Sounds exactly like McQueen's rookie year. Break out star of the season." She drove out of the shop, not wanting to hear anymore, taking up a spot at Flo's. Mia (or Tia, Georgia had discovered that the waitresses were twins) came over and delivered the usual that Georgia drank, before disappearing back into the small shop.

She caught part of a conversation McQueen was having with some of the townsfolk. "It's just nice to get back here, you know? I need to hit the dirt track, though."

Mack chimed in, his deep voice startling Georgia. "Hey, you should keep an eye out, Lightning. You've seen Chick's driver hanging around here..."

McQueen practically snorted. "I'm not worried about Chick, honestly. He's lost his touch. I mean, he was a great racer but I don't think he really ever recovered from what happened. I think this is going to be his last season. And hey, I don't mean to sound so rude about it, but he's caused enough trouble and it hasn't paid off for him."

Georgia stopped herself from butting in to a conversation she wasn't part of. She felt the need to say something, because it irked her a little the way McQueen talked about Chick, but she didn't say anything. She simply listened, sipping on her hot oil carefully.

Mack shrugged. "I dunno. Hey, give the guy some credit though for trying. I'd still keep an eye out."

"I will, don't worry," McQueen assured his driver. "But I don't want to be worrying about Chick. My racing is more important to me than that, and he's not going to stop me. He hasn't in the past, so why let it happen again? Doc wouldn't want me to worry about it... He'd want me to focus." The racer's voice softened slightly as he thought of the Hudson Hornet. "And besides, we don't even know if Chick's coming back."

Before anyone could reply, heavy headlights flooded the road as a big rig drove towards the cafe's back lot.

"Looks like you spoke too soon," Sheriff remarked as a few of the cars hanging around dispersed.

Georgia didn't want to hear anymore of this either, so she finished off her oil and left the cafe to drive around back, where Sam had parked himself.

"Sam, how'd the race go?" A question she already knew the answer to, but asked anyway. By the big rig's expression, she could confirm that it didn't go so well. "Third place isn't bad for the first race of the season. He shouldn't beat himself up," she said, starting to drive past him, but Sam grabbed her tire to stop her.

"It's not just the race. It's his sponsor." His voice was low, as if he didn't want Chick to hear him.

Georgia nodded and drove around to the back of the trailer, but her intentions were not to bring up the race or the htB sponsorship. She banged on the trailer door with one tire, eager to see Chick and whisk him away from the loss. They could deal with that later; if there was one thing she remembered wanting as a kid, it was for somebody to make her stop practicing, to make her stop worrying about wins and losses.

The trailer door opened shortly thereafter, and Chick drove out, but she was rather surprised to see that he wasn't angry, at least not outwardly, which she took advantage of quickly.

"Unless you want to see McQueen, I suggest you take a drive up to the Wheel Well to eat."

One eyelid rose in surprise as the trailer door closed. Chick was prepared to say something in rebuttal, but her suggestion sounded like a fantastic idea, considering how frustrating and downright annoying the race had been. The last car he wanted to see was McQueen - well, besides Malone. Malone would want him to face McQueen but the first thing he thought of when he thought of Malone were the words 'screw that guy'.

Georgia waited for him to answer, noticing his moment of deliberation. "Unless you want to see McQueen."

"No, not really. Let's just go, before anybody says anything." He started to drive off, and when he noticed that Weathers wasn't following, he stopped. "Are you going to make me eat alone? C'mon!" Georgia was surprised by his change in attitude towards her, but nonetheless told Sam they'd be back and drove to catch up with him. "This was your idea, anyway."

"I know. I just wasn't expecting that you'd want company."

"I've been cooped up in a trailer for a couple hours. Sam is a great guy but sometimes..." He glanced over at her and stopped.

"I get it," she said quickly. "I myself liked the rides to and from races. Usually they helped me get my crap together before and after."

Chick glanced again. "What, like, the old man's races? Or yours...?"

"Both I guess. Although 'my' races were just independent circuit things. Preparation for the big leagues, as they called it," she replied.

"How'd that go?"

"It was all right. I dunno, I got distracted too easily. I had other things I was interested in but never pursued because racing was my focus. There's an old practice track out by my place that's been there for as long as I can remember. I was down there all the time, it was insane," Georgia commented.

Chick snorted. "If I were you, I'd move back there. I hate this place."

Georgia shrugged. "It's nice. I like it." Her words were very vague, which caught Chick's attention.

"Family secrets coming back to bite you?" His voice was almost hopeful.

She rolled her eyes. "No." She didn't say anything else about it, and didn't say anything else at all, for that matter. The rest of the drive was silent, with the stock car wondering if he had pissed her off by asking that, and Georgia wondering why she had even brought that up to begin with. They reached the Wheel Well shortly after, and were taken to a table by a waitress. It was mostly deserted tonight, as it was rather late.

"When's the next race?" she asked, finally breaking the long silence.

"Two weeks. I have to scout out McQueen's crap in that time, but I don't really care enough to do it. I just won't and say that I did."

"Why would you say that you did if you didn't?"

"My sponsor is a total... He wants me to scout McQueen. But there's nobody out here from htB to really watch me," Chick explained with a smirk, "so I could do whatever I want."

"So I take it you're not doing anything tomorrow then?" Georgia asked.

"It sounds like you were waiting for me to say something that would let you slip that in there."

"And if I was?"

"Well, I'm not doing anything. So whatever you want to do - no. Whatever _reasonable _thing you want to do, I could probably do that."

"I just want to show you something." Again, her voice was vague, but this time it was different. It was more sneaky, which was totally spot on. She was hiding something from him... His eyes narrowed for a moment, but he played along. The more and more time he spent around Georgia, the better he felt. She wasn't going to push him around or take advantage of him. When he thought about it, it actually made him chill a little. Of course, this scared him, too. So many cars had taken advantage of him that he had built up his defenses to the point of no return.

"Uh-huh... You're a sneaky one," he said.

She laughed, shaking her hood. "I think you'll like it. I mean, I hope you will. Just something I found while wandering around."

"You get distracted a lot, don't you?"

"No... Okay, maybe just a little bit. But I don't know this place that well. I have to get a feel for it a little bit," she told him matter-of-factly. "I am possibly going to be living here."

"If I were you, I'd stay where you were. This place doesn't seem all that appealing," Chick remarked as the waitress delivered their drinks.

"I've been living at home for all these years... It's time for me to move on," she told him.

"It sounds like your mind is already made up." Chick's eyelids rose.

Georgia simply shrugged her tires loosely. "It'll all depend on how the next few weeks go... I'm going to have to go back - or at least call - and make sure everything's okay, get an extension at work... Going back for a couple days to put things in order is probably what will happen. I have a feeling I'll be here for longer than just a month."


End file.
